Stubborn
by Sis21K
Summary: In the much improved Refuge, Crutchie works with troublesome kids. Between his distracting crush on Violet, another worker, and a new stubborn boy named Oliver, his life is pretty busy. But little do they know that life is about to get a lot more complicated and possibly dangerous. (A/N COMPLETE!)
1. Chapter 1

**Hi again, fansies! I'm back!**

**So this is the story I mentioned in "By Candlelight" (which I suggest you read, though this is NOT a sequel) and takes place around the same time. Jack and Katherine are married, the newsies have grown up. Crutchie is around 19 or 20. So basically, since Snyder was arrested the Refuge has been made into an orphanage, with a separate section for kids getting into trouble on the streets. It has become a real refuge for the kids. Crutchie works there and gets assigned to troubled kids to be a sort of mentor and help them work through their problems.**

**This is a very different story from what is usually posted on here, but I really hope you'll read (and enjoy) it. It includes everyone's favorite Crutchie, a couple of OC's, and some others that will show up later. I'm really excited to see what you think. So go on, give this one a try!**

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><p>Crutchie was daydreaming. It was a rare moment of quiet in the Refuge. All the children were outside playing, before dinner, and Crutchie wasn't on duty. Well, he was, just not kid-watching duty. He was supposed to be cleaning up one of the bathrooms, but the children were all so neat—desperate to please the workers—that he didn't have to do much. Now he stood in the hallway, staring off into space, dreaming about a young lady he worked with.<p>

Her name was Violet.

Violet had started about two weeks ago, and everyone liked her. Crutchie liked her especially. Her long, flowing dark locks that she braided each morning but let down in the evenings…her sparkling blue eyes…it was enough to make anyone feel woozy. But Crutchie's infatuation went deeper than looks. Violet's attitude was what he liked most. She had only asked about his leg once, on the day she'd started, nodded solemnly when Crutchie explained briefly about the polio, then never mentioned it again. To her, his leg was just part of him, just how he was, and he appreciated that. Also, she didn't act delicate like other young ladies he'd seen on the streets, who practically swooned at the sight of dirt or grime. Violet seemed immune to such nonsense; if one of the kids was bleeding, she wasted no time in cleaning and bandaging the wound. She didn't mind if her dress got dirty; she would shrug and say, "Oh, well. I'm just gonna change it again tomorrow." Crutchie also loved her voice. It was soft and gentle, and he liked how she said his name_. "Ker-utchie,"_ that's how it sounded. "Crutchie." He could almost hear it now. "Crutchie." So sweet and lovely and…

"Crutchie! Are you daydreaming or something?" Violet smiled at him as she approached from the stairs. Crutchie's cheeks flushed.

"Me? Oh, uh, well…was only…I had just…"

"It's all right, Crutchie. We all need a break sometimes." She laughed, and it was like the tinkling of bells. "Anyway, you've been assigned to a new boy. Caught for stealing and fighting."

"Oh. Uh, that's great. Musta just been brought in, huh?"

"Yes." She smiled, shuffled through some notes on a clipboard. "His name is Oliver, and he was described as 'angry'. Hmm. Aren't they all, at first? He was reported stealing a loaf of bread, and right afterwards, got into a fight with—ooh, here's a name you might recognize—Les Jacobs. One of the newsboys?"

Crutchie nodded. "Davey's not going to be very happy," he muttered.

"The only reason Les didn't have to come is because he told the police his name right away, and passerby said that he was trying to stop Oliver from getting away."

Violet handed Crutchie the notes, which he scanned quickly and nodded. "He's to be on extra supervision, then?" he asked.

"Yes. If all goes well, I'll see you—and him—at dinner."

"Yeah. Um. See you Violet." Hellos and goodbyes, those were the times Crutchie got awkward. Everything in between usually went fine. He shook his head to clear it, and limped down the hallway towards the dormitory for the kids brought in for crime. He always tried to prepare himself whenever he was assigned to a new kid, but each case was so unique that he could never truly be prepared.

Crutchie figured Oliver must be about fifteen or sixteen, around Les's age. So he was surprised when he opened the door and saw a much younger boy, probably ten or eleven, sitting alone on the bed furthest away from the door. He sat straight, facing the window.

Crutchie started over to the boy, his alternating _step-thud_ sounding extra loud in the quiet room. He noticed that Oliver seemed to shrink with every step Crutchie took.

"Hello there, Oliver," Crutchie said in an upbeat voice, as he reached the bed. "How are you?"

Oliver looked over sharply and studied Crutchie, his eyes lingering much longer than was polite on his bum leg. Still, Crutchie gave him a winning smile. He seemed to sit up straighter after that.

"How do you know my name?" Oliver demanded suddenly. He had a strange accent, a strong British dialect with a few New York inflections mixed in.

Crutchie shrugged. "Well, I got to know your name if we're gonna be working together."

"I don't know about _together_. We'll have to see. What's your name, then?"

"Folks call me Crutchie."

"That's a dumb name. Makes you sound like a sissy. What's your real name?"

Crutchie's smile faded slightly. "You can just call me Crutchie please, Oliver."

Oliver rolled his eyes and stared out the window. Crutchie observed him for a moment. He had light blond hair and piercing blue eyes, similar to Violet's but lacking her warmth. The trousers, suspender straps, and collared shirt led Crutchie to believe that the boy hadn't been living on the streets very long. Oliver had a black eye and several bruises and cuts on his face—from his fight with Les, Crutchie figured. Someone would come in after Crutchie was done, to clean Oliver's wounds.

"So, Oliver. I'm here to tell you about how things work here. You'se gonna be staying for a while, and I hope you'll get along great." Oliver scoffed as if he doubted it. Crutchie chose to ignore it and continued. "Right now, everyone's outside playing. Whenever we goes outside, the rule is that you can't leave the sight of whoever's supervising."

"Why not?" Oliver shot at him.

"So no one gets lost," Crutchie answered calmly. "That's one of the only times you'se gets to mix in with the kids from the orphanage section. Mostly, you'se just gonna be with the kids here—"

"In the jail," Oliver interrupted.

"Well, not quite." However, Oliver looked so sulky that Crutchie decided not to push it. "Every morning, breakfast is at seven. If you ain't awake by then, you don't get breakfast. Lunch is at noon, and supper's at five. In between, sometimes we'll have visitors come in for some excitement, but usually the you just gotta play or talk. We gots stuff for you to play with."

"What if I don't want to play?"

"Then you don't have to."

"Oh." Oliver went back to staring out the window.

"So tonight, if you want, you can come down for dinner and meet everyone. If you ain't ready, you can stay up here for tonight. But I would come down if I was you—sounds fun, don't it?"

"No," Oliver spat, "I'll stay up here. When are you going to leave me alone?"

"In just a sec, Oliver." Crutchie sat on the bed next to him. The boy deliberately moved a few inches, looking at his knees. "You know, Oliver," Crutchie said in a low voice, leaning in slightly, "I was hoping you and me could be friends. I could help you out, if you want. If you ever got a question or just wanna talk, come and find me. I always find time for my friends." Crutchie gave him a warm smile. He'd used very similar lines to charm other stubborn kids and they always reacted well.

Oliver, however, glared at Crutchie. "We're not friends," he said quickly.

Crutchie paused for a moment, then sighed. This boy would take some extra work. "Well, Oliver, if you wanna come down for supper, you sure can. I gotta go help set up now. I hope to see ya down there." He stood and began limping back towards the door.

"I'm not coming," Oliver spat after him. Crutchie stopped to look back at the young boy, so full of spite, who had presently gone back to staring out the window. He shook his head, then continued to the door, wondering how he could possibly get through to young Oliver.

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><p><strong>So there it is! First chapter, done! The next chapter will be from Oliver's point-of-view. I'm not sure if switching POV's will be a regular thing in this story or not; we'll have to see! I've got a lot of good ideas for this, so I hope you like it because there will be a lot more of it. Don't forget to R&amp;R-give me your thoughts on this first chapter!<strong>

**-Sis21K**


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm back! It took me a little longer to write this chapter, but hopefully it's satisfactory! **

**There's some violence in this chapter, just be warned.**

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><p>I don't like this place.<p>

In fact, I hate it. I shouldn't even be here. I wouldn't be here if that stupid Les kid hadn't held me up until the cops got there. Somehow _he_ got out of it, but they took _me_ away. They say it's going to help me to be here. I doubt it.

Ugh, it just makes me so angry. You'd think one poor kid would help out another, right? But even though he was clearly poorer than dirt, he tried to stop me, reason with me. _"You don't gotta be a thief. You need some help? I know a place—" _That's when I tried to run away. He had the nerve to grab my shirt, and by then I was so upset at him foiling my plan that I threw a punch at him.

I fought as hard as I could, but I still got beat up pretty bad, even though he wasn't a dirty fighter. He just punched if I tried to get away, or if I hit him particularly hard. He never let go of my shirt, not even when the cops showed up. Only when the bread had been pulled from my hands and my arms were pulled behind my back did my shirt leave his grasp, but he was holding it so hard that a button popped off and rolled away.

I gave up then. I pride myself on never giving up, but I thought I was done for. To my surprise, they took me straight to this dumb place and thrust me into the hands of some young lady who pretended to be nice to me. She led me up here, asking me all kinds of questions. I don't even remember most of them. When she said I could choose a bed that didn't have a pillow—that means that no one's using it—I went straight to this one. It's on the far end of the row, right by the window. I could see dirty kids like me playing in the street outside the Refuge, being careful not to go too far. I thought they were pretty stupid. If I ever got to go out there to play, I'd run as fast as I could to get away.

Then again, maybe not. What if someone caught me? I'd probably have to stay here twice as long.

Oh, I just hate that feeling. I'm trapped. There's no possible way out. I don't know what the kids are going to be like. They could be nice, but they could be mean. You can never tell. To be on the safe side, I didn't want to find out. I decided, while the lady fluffed a pillow and placed it carefully on my bed, that I would never face the inside of the room. Whenever there are kids here, I'll sit and face the window. Once they figure that out, they won't even try, then I won't have to worry about it.

I can't trust anyone. That's a rule I made for myself. Never trust anyone. I don't trust the kids here. I don't trust the cops or the pretend-nice adults or that Les kid. And I especially don't trust Crutchie.

First of all, his name. Who wants to be called Crutchie? That's just asking for trouble. Why would someone want to be called something that highlights their weakness? I just don't understand it. And he won't even tell me his real name.

The lady had said that someone would be coming in to talk to me and make me "_feel at home"_.

Hah. If I wanted to feel at home I would have just stayed home instead of running away.

So I wasn't surprised when I heard the door open. I decided to just ignore it. Ignore it, maybe it will go away. If not, you can always run away.

The door opening wasn't what scared me. What scared me was the sound that I'd grown to fear. That _thud_ between each step could only mean one thing. The cane.

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><p>Step-thud. Step-thud. Step thud.<p>

_"__Um…Dad?"_

_"__Oliver, you've been a bad, bad boy."_

_"__Wha…but Dad, I don't know what you're—"_

_"__Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about, boy. You know what happens when you've been bad."_

_"__Dad, I didn't—"_

_"__Shut up! When will you learn to shut your mouth?"_

Thump.

_"__Aurrgh! Dad!"_

_"__Shut up!" _Thump. _"Stop your crying!" _Thump. _"Tell me what you did to deserve this, boy?"_

_"__I don't know!"_

Thump. _"Liar!" _Thump. Thump. Thump.

_"__Aurrgh! Help me!"_

_"__Nobody cares enough about you to help you, boy." _Thump.

_"__Somebody! Please!"_

Thump. _"Stop your crying, or I'll really give you something to cry about."_

_"__Stop! Dad, stop hitting me! I'll be good! I promise!"_

Thump. Thump. _"Lies!"_

_"__I will! I'm sorry! Please!"_

Thump. _"You liar!"_

_"__I'm not lying!"_

Thump. Thump. Thump. _"Are you done, boy?"_

_"__Yes, Dad!"_

_"__Let this be a lesson to you, boy." _Step-thud. _"Answer me, boy! You understand?"_

_"__Yes, Dad! I understand! I promise!"_

_"__Stop your crying."_

_"__Yes, Dad."_

Step-thud. Step-thud.

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><p>It turned out Crutchie didn't have a cane, but a crutch could be used the same way. I think I could outrun him, though. I looked at his leg, and it was all shriveled up like an old apple.<p>

He seems to think we can be friends. He acts like I can trust him. But I know what will happen. As soon as I consent to trust in him, he'll turn on me. The crutch will become something to be feared, just like the cane.

He started telling me a bunch of things about what goes on here. There's a lot of schedules for eating, and if you aren't there on time, they beat you. Probably. He didn't actually say that.

Also, we get to play between eating. At first I thought it was some opposite-meaning word and we would actually have to work, but then I remembered the kids playing outside. I asked him what would happen if I didn't want to play. It was a test, to see how mean he was, right off. But he said if I didn't want to play, I didn't have to.

Crutchie kept calling me Oliver. He said it over and over until I started to hate the sound of my own name. Whenever Dad said my name, it meant bad news. I think this whole place means bad news.

The kids came in after Crutchie left. They noticed me right away. "Hey, there's a new kid!" cried a boy who sounded about my age. There were some murmurs aimed towards me, but I ignored them all. A few minutes after they arrived, they all left again, for dinner. Crutchie brought my dinner up to me. Even though I didn't go down, he didn't beat me, but that's because he told me I didn't have to go downstairs to eat today.

The food was okay. There was some soup, some bread, and an apple. I was hungry, so I ate it. I'd probably get in trouble if I didn't eat it. I devoured the bread before he had even reached the door.

Crutchie left me without a word, and I was so happy to finally be left alone that I climbed up to the top bunk on my bed. I started on my soup up there, and I didn't hear the _step-thud_ that meant Crutchie was returning.

He opened the door quietly, holding his own plate, and I froze. He looked up at me in the top bunk—I hadn't had time to jump back down. I hadn't even heard him coming! I couldn't read his expression, but it wasn't angry. He probably wouldn't hit me. He didn't really seem like he would hit me. I was starting to trust him in spite of myself. I quickly regained my thoughts and gulped.

"I…I decided I'd rather sleep up here," I said arrogantly.

Crutchie just looked at me.

I felt safer in the top bunk; being higher than Crutchie's head gave me a sense of power. He limped over to me and sat on the bottom bed. "That's fine, Oliver. Just don't forget your pillow."

I climbed down with the apple in my hand. I had slurped up the soup already. Crutchie was still eating his. I took my pillow from his outstretched hand and threw it on the top bunk.

Then, for some reason I can't explain to myself, I sat down beside him.

I was breaking my rule—trust no one—but I couldn't help it. Don't worry, I didn't sit too close to him, and we didn't talk the whole time. I just munched on my apple and he quietly finished his soup and bread. When he was done, he stood up and smiled at me.

"Thank you, Oliver," he said meaningfully. I frowned, avoided his searching gaze, and climbed back up to my bed. Just as he walked out the door, I remembered my dirty plate.

"Hey!" I called, running after Crutchie, who was limping slowly down the hallway.

"Yes, Oliver?"

"You forgot to take my plate," I accused.

Crutchie turned around and smiled apologetically. "Here at the Refuge, we clean up our own messes," he said simply. And then he turned and kept walking! He had tricked me! There was nothing else to do but follow in his painfully slow wake, downstairs, where I could hear the other kids still eating. I dropped off my plate where he set his and sprinted back upstairs angrily.

That's why I don't trust people.

I spent the rest of the evening in my bunk, staring out at the dirty streets of New York.

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><p><strong>I really liked writing Oliver's POV. Next it will be back to Crutchie, and you'll also be seeing some others appear...such as Les and Davey, in the flesh! Well, on the page. "Those kids will live and breathe right on the page..." Thanks for the reviews, don't forget to tell me what you think about this chapter!<strong>

**-Sis21K**


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, it's been a while-not too long, I guess, but it seems that way to me-but here's Crutchie's POV again. Enjoy!**

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><p>Crutchie felt he had made a little progress with Oliver, but he was still worried for the young boy. The entire evening he had on the top bunk, staring out the window. Even when some of the kids asked him to come down and play, he ignored them. It was like he couldn't even hear them. Oliver had blocked himself off from the world, and Crutchie didn't like it. He had persuaded Oliver to go down for breakfast, but he sat alone, isolated from the others. He glared at anyone who went near him, and when the children were released to play outside, he'd gone back upstairs and reassumed his position on the bunk bed.<p>

But Crutchie had a plan, something he was almost positive would help young Oliver. After breakfast, he had received a note from Davey, which had made him smile. Davey had written to rant and rave about Les' behavior, and near the bottom informed Crutchie that he would be bringing Les over to the Refuge that evening to apologize to Oliver. "Who knows?" Davey had written. "The best of friends are often formed from an argument. I mean, look at me and Jack! Les thinks that maybe the boy just needed some help, and is going to offer him a place with the newsies after his time in the Refuge is done."

And after a long day of watching Oliver sitting alone, Crutchie was _sure_ he needed all the help he could get.

Davey came after dinner with a reluctant-looking Les, and Crutchie greeted them warmly. He led them to a special, private room used for visits and times when they needed to talk to one child alone. "I'll be right back," he said, and motioned at the chairs and a comfortable couch.

Crutchie limped up to the dormitory, and was blasted by a wave of sound. All the children were there, worked up after dinner, and not ready for bed. As usual, he had to step over games, kids, and pillows scattered on the floor. Children raced around him, bounced on beds, and shouted to each other.

Oliver was a sharp contrast to all the chaos. When Crutchie called to him, he didn't even move. He sat cross-legged on the top bunk, hugging his pillow and gazing out the window. Crutchie had to shout to break Oliver's trance. "Oliver! There's someone here who wants to see you!"

Oliver's eyes widened, then darted around. "I can't," he said, looking extremely nervous. "I don't want to see him."

Crutchie sighed and gave him a serious look. "Let's go, Oliver."

Oliver slowly climbed down, trembling, and followed close behind Crutchie through the obstacles of children and their games. He dragged his feet down the hallway, and Crutchie gently told him to hurry up.

When they reached the small room, Crutchie opened the door and stepped in first. Oliver grabbed Crutchie's shirt and peered inside. Crutchie watched his face as he saw who was in the room. It first showed surprise; then Oliver narrowed his eyes and lost his nervous demeanor. He went inside and let go of Crutchie's shirt quickly, seeming disgusted that he'd even thought to do so in the first place.

"Why's he here?" Oliver asked. Les stood up quickly, much taller than Oliver, but Davey pulled him back down and answered for him.

"Les is here to apologize," he said, giving Les a stern look. "He knows he shouldn't have gotten into a fight with you, and—"

"Have him tell it himself, then!" Oliver said fiercly. Davey opened his mouth, then closed it. Crutchie could practically see the wheels turning in his mind. Davey was still a deep thinker. He finally gave Les a little nudge, and Les looked at Oliver.

"I shouldn't have gotten in a fight with you," he said in a monotone. Davey glared at him. Les spoke again, but this time Crutchie could tell they were his words and not Davey's. "But you really don't gotta steal to live out there. I was in your place once, with my dad out of a job and—"

"My dad ain't out of a job!" Oliver burst out, "And it looks like you're still living in the dirt!"

Crutchie had to restrain himself from telling Oliver off.

Les frowned, but decided to plow on as if he hadn't heard Oliver. "What me and Davey did was find us a job. We went to the best place, I think, and started off selling papes."

"Sure it's the best for you, it's all you've got!" Oliver spat.

"So hey, listen. I think it'd be…umm…fun to have you around, selling papes with us." Les looked like it physically pained him to say those words. His opinion of Oliver was clearly growing lower by the second. "So I just wanted to say, once you're done in here if you wanna come over to The World, you'd probably like it."

"Probably not."

"They've got," Les said loudly, "a lot of nice kids. It's fun."

"I don't care to make friends."

"It's almost like they's your brothers!"

"Sure it is."

"They'se some of my best pals!"

"I doubt it."

"And," Les stood up and stepped menacingly toward Oliver. "We all stand for each other!"

"I bet they all hate you."

"Also! You can make some money! Off the papes!"

"What do I want with money?"

"So you can buy stuff to eat!" Les was almost yelling, staring intensely at Oliver. "Instead of stealing it, I mean."

"I wasn't stealing!" Oliver's glare was just as intense.

"Cause stealing's a lousy thing to do!"

"I think you're a lousy—"

"And maybe that way you wouldn't—"

"You think I care?"

"—get into fights anymore!"

For a split second the two boys stared each other down, anger passing almost visibly between them.

Then they were both rolling around on the floor, punching and biting and shouting at each other, and Davey and Crutchie had to pull them off each other. Les had a black eye, and Oliver's nose was bleeding. They breathed heavily, and Crutchie had to restrain Oliver from attacking Les again. Luckily he only needed one arm to hold the little boy tight against his chest so he couldn't move. Davey had Les by the shirt.

"Time to go, Les," Davey said, giving Crutchie an apologetic look. "Sorry. I'll meet you in the park sometime, eh Crutchie?"

Crutchie nodded and said good-bye as Davey pulled Les out the door.

As soon as Oliver and Crutchie were alone, Oliver started struggling harder to free himself. Crutchie let him go and took a handkerchief out of his pocket as Oliver sprinted to the door, found that it was locked, and turned around to stare fearfully at Crutchie.

More specifically, at his crutch.

Crutchie raised an eyebrow, then chuckled. "Oliver, what's the matter? You scared to be in the same room as me?" He grew even more perplexed as Oliver slid to the floor and covered his head when Crutchie stepped towards him. "Hey, hey," Crutchie said gently, frowning. He moved Oliver's arms away from his head and handed him the handkerchief. "For your nose," he explained. Oliver took it quickly, but still looked warily at Crutchie as he wiped the blood away.

"You shouldn't be getting into fights," Crutchie said quietly. "That's what got you in trouble in the first place. And those were some pretty nasty things you said to Les. He's a good kid, and he was just trying to help you out."

"I don't want his help," Oliver said in a hoarse voice. "Or yours," he added.

Crutchie helped him to his feet and opened the door. "Back to the—" but Oliver was already gone, running as fast as he could back to the dormitory. Crutchie shook his head.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Violet standing beside him. His heart fluttered. She gave him a sympathetic smile. "Tough going?" she asked.

Crutchie sighed and shook his head again. "You don't know the worst of it."

"It's going to be fine," Violet said tenderly. "He'll come around. They always do."

"They always do," Crutchie repeated.

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><p><strong>Aw, that ending was pretty sweet. I just had to put in a cute little moment <strong>**to make up for the terrible meeting with Les and Oliver. I hate to write Crutchie so confused and worried.**

**So I have this big climax idea, but there needs to be some time in between then and now where you get to know both Oliver and Violet a little better-not necessarily at the same time, obviously. So I would really, really appreciate some prompts as to other things that happen to them. I'm really liking this story, and I'm hoping you are too!**

**Reviews make my day!**

**-Sis21K**


	4. Chapter 4

**So I had a really bad day today, the best mishap being that hot chocolate got spilled all over me-an entire cup-and I was _soaked_, not to mention my science notes. So there's a little laugh for you. (It was actually pretty funny). Luckily my school uniform (groan, I know) is fine, thanks to a super-star secretary!**

**I might be getting more than one chapter up this weekend, so consider yourselves lucky! Now that school is out I'll have more time to write, hooray!**

**Oh, and I noticed that I haven't done a disclaimer AT ALL in this story, so to make up for earlier chapters: I do not own Newsies! Never have, never will!**

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><p>I was sure Crutchie was going to beat me that time. He stopped himself at the last second. I don't know why he's still trying to make me trust him. He <em>knows<em> I will never trust him.

The crutch has become synonymous with the cane. I hate acting so weak, but it's better to always be on guard, ready to protect yourself, than to let your guard down, trust, and get hurt. My dad taught me that. I mean, he didn't actually _tell_ me. He just showed me, by example, and I kind of figured it out for myself.

I miss my dad. I liked him a lot. The only part I didn't like about him was his cane, and that only came out sometimes. I always deserved it, of course.

Well, usually.

But now he's in jail. I guess the cops didn't like him to use his cane at all, especially on kids that weren't his own. I miss how we used to play together, when he wasn't at work. Sometimes, I'd stay up late just to greet him when he got home. He liked when I did that, because it made him feel special, probably.

Also, he would sometimes bring out some playing cards and we would play war and gamble, just like big adult men! He filled a flask with beer for himself—and if I had been good, he would pour me my own flask! I didn't much like the taste, but I drank it because it made me feel grown-up, and it made my dad happy.

He told me about the bad boys he rounded up, and we laughed together. I imagined he was a real cop, though he was slightly below that status. I loved listening to his stories, even though he was constantly comparing me to them. "I'm sure you'll be next," he used to say, giving me a stern look. "One day it'll be you out there, and then you'll be in real trouble."

Looks like he was right.

I noticed Crutchie has the sweets for this other worker lady named Violet. (I know a lot of names because all I do is listen throughout the day. It's not as if I actually care.) He really shouldn't be so obvious about it. He practically trips over his own crutch when she's in the room. That's not smart.

To be honest, I felt a little bad for him. Now, don't worry. I would still never trust him. Ever. But I don't trust anyone. Not even my dad, and I loved him. I felt sorry for Crutchie because he didn't seem to know any important rules in life. He trusted _everyone_. He gave himself a name that made his weakness more apparent. And he wore his heart on his sleeve. I figured that maybe if I helped him out, taught him some rules, maybe he would forget all about beating me.

At the Refuge, they make you go into a small room with someone, each week, and talk about things. When it came time for my talk with Crutchie, I mentioned it to him right away.

"You like Violet."

Crutchie had barely sat down, let alone started to talk to me. His cheeks flushed a little.

"Why, Oliver. Of course I like Violet. I like her just as much as I like you. I try to like everyone."

"But you _like-_like her," I said pointedly. He opened his mouth to reply but I held up a finger, feeling like a teacher. "I shouldn't _know_ that. You're making it too obvious. If you like someone, you should be the only person who knows."

"Do you like someone, Oliver?" he asked slyly.

I grew flustered. He was missing the point. "Wha—no! Of course not! Why should I—" He had a satisfied little smirk on his face, so I pulled myself together. "Ugh. No. But even if I did, I wouldn't tell you, and you wouldn't know, because I wouldn't let it show."

"This is very interesting, Oliver. Can I give you my take on it?" He didn't give me a chance to answer. "I've found that if you let people know how you'se feeling, they can understand you better. It turns out better in the end, because—"

"But you don't always do it," I frowned. He was leading me off topic a little, but I had to settle it. "You don't, because when I was talking to Les, you were mad at me but you didn't let it show."

There was a long, cold silence.

I had him there. He knew it was true.

"Oliver," he said after considering my words, "You and I both know that there's times when it is better to keep feelings hidden. If, for example, I'd allowed myself to get angry and interfere, you and Les wouldn't have learned much from your conversation that day."

"All I learned from Les anyway is that he's a big pretend-nice kid who doesn't know what he's talking about."

Crutchie closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them.

I spoke again. "But that's not what we were talking about. This is about you. I'm trying to help you," I stressed, as if I was talking to a little kid. "You can't show your feelings when it comes to girls. There are rules for stuff like that, you know! Life has rules!"

Crutchie seemed genuinely interested. "Rules? Like what?"

"Like never trust anyone!" I blurted out.

That was a huge mistake. I was flustered because Crutchie didn't get what I was trying to tell him and I told him my number one rule without giving it much thought. I was in big trouble now. Now he knew my motive for almost everything I did. Before I could say anything else, I bit my lip hard. Why did I have to go and say a stupid thing like that? And suddenly I was angry at Crutchie. It was his fault! He had provoked me.

I stood up and slapped his face. "Now see what you did!" I yelled.

I turned around in the tiny room and lunged for the door, and it was locked again. I stormed back to the chair I had been sitting on, sat down and crossed my arms. Another long silence passed between us. I had nothing more to say to him.

But he seemed to think I still wanted to talk.

"Never trust anyone? Oliver, that seems like an awfully hard thing to do. Why can't you trust anyone?" he asked softly. I was surprised he wasn't yelling. I _had_ hit him.

"That's just the rule," I said stubbornly.

"The rule? Whose rule?"

"Mine."

"Oh. Who taught it to you?"

A million things ran through my head. "My—my dad."

"Your dad?"

I latched onto the idea. "Yeah. My dad. And he's going to come and get you if you're mean to me. Once he gets outta jail."

"Do you miss your dad?" The question surprised me. I felt a prickling in my eyes.

"Yeah."

"You loved your dad, didn't you?"

I nodded. What else could I do?

"Did you trust your dad?"

"No." My answer was quick and sure. "I don't trust anyone."

"Not even your friends?"

"I don't have friends."

"Everyone's got friends."

"Not me."

"Well, Oliver…what I'm wondering is…do you trust yourself?"

Now, that one threw me off. The answer seemed obvious—until I applied my rule. But then it made sense, you know? I can't always trust myself not to blurt out things I don't mean to.

"No," I said finally. "No. I don't trust anyone. Weren't you listening?"

Crutchie seemed to think this was a grave problem. He stroked his chin. "So if you don't trust anyone…not even yourself…then how are you going to make sure you live?"

"Why do you care?" I asked, because I didn't have a good answer.

"Because I trust you," Crutchie said, "And I want you to live a good life. And I'm thinking that if you could have one person—just one—that you could count on to be there for you, no matter what, it would make life a whole lot easier."

I couldn't believe that I was tempted by his offer. But it made a lot of sense. It wasn't really breaking my rule, just fixing it a little. _Never trust anyone—except Crutchie._ He hadn't beat me yet. Maybe he never would.

"Ok," I said, hoping I wouldn't regret that decision later.

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><p><strong>Reviews will totally brighten my day up, even if I'm soaked in hot chocolate!<strong>

**-Sis21K**


	5. Chapter 5

**Well, this turned out to be a little angsty...oops. Hope you like it anyway!**

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><p>Crutchie told Violet happily that Oliver had finally decided to trust him (though he didn't give the details of the conversation leading up to it).<p>

And then he asked her on a date.

It was a spur of the moment thing. He was thinking about Oliver, wondering if his infatuation with Violet was really that obvious. Crutchie figured that if it was, no one would be surprised to see them together. Why not make it an official thing instead of following her around like a little puppy dog?

Violet said yes. They went to a ballet, and it was magical. She confessed that she'd been considering asking _him_ if he hadn't done so within the next few days. "I like you, Crutchie. I really do."

They even—Crutchie shuddered with pleasure whenever he thought about it—kissed. It was just a quick peck on the lips. The music and lights faded away for that moment and Crutchie was delighted.

It wasn't his first kiss. His first kiss had been back at the lodge house, when they were having a huge New York party with newsies from every borough. The place was packed, it was late, and Crutchie had been headed up to the rooftop for a few minutes of quiet when he was ambushed by some fellow Manhatten boys. "Not so fast, big boy!" Race had called out, drawing the attention of others nearby. "Where do you think you're goin'?"

"Upstairs for a breath of fresh air," Crutchie replied, looking around warily at their gleeful faces. Mush had a firm hand on his shoulder. Crutchie looked longingly at the stairs but was jerked around to face the other way.

"We got a goil here," Race said. A newsie girl from the Bronx appeared with a smug expression. "You're gonna kiss her."

"What? No I ain't!" Crutchie protested.

"Yes you is, if you ever wanna catch a break from us again!" There were hoots and cat-calls as Crutchie was pushed closer to the girl. He rolled his eyes and leaned towards her, to cheers and hollers. Over her shoulder, Crutchie saw Romeo jumping up and down and shouting in excitement. He thought he heard the younger boy yell, "How's about a kiss for me, miss?"

Crutchie kissed her quickly and escaped upstairs. Jack had been at the top of the stairs, smirking. Crutchie pushed him aside but Jack caught him and held him in his arms. "Nice one, kid."

Crutchie struggled to escape Jack's bear hug with an embarrassed laugh. "Shut up."

Jack let him struggle for a minute just to prove his strength and authority—though Crutchie never needed any proof of that—then released him. "I'll shut up, but you'll never hear the end of it from those guys."

"I know," Crutchie groaned.

That memory flashed into his mind after he kissed Violet, and it made him grin. Oh, if only Jackie and the boys could see him now! They wouldn't be laughing anymore!

Snow fell often, covering the city in a crisp blanket of white. Oliver still refused to play outside with the others, but one day the kids were having a snowball fight and a mysterious large snowball fell from the sky and hit Crutchie's back. When he looked up, a window slammed shut. A few minutes later, at dinner, Crutchie noticed that Oliver's hands were wet and red with cold. He looked pleased with himself, and Crutchie smiled.

Crutchie was beginning to really look forward to his weekly meetings with the young boy, because he learned something new each time. It seemed like everything Oliver revealed about himself, even unknowingly, was a key to unlocking the kid's mind. Crutchie just wanted Oliver to be a boy again, to be able to play and not worry about who to trust and who not to trust. Everything was a puzzle, and Oliver was unconsciously handing him the pieces.

The week before Christmas, Oliver actually seemed to be excited for the festivities. "Is there really going to be presents from Santa?" he asked at the meeting.

Crutchie smiled. "Of course."

"But only if I'm good, right?"

"Right. But I think you've been real good."

"Really? Oh." Oliver thought for a moment. "Santa's really tough on me. I have to be really, really good. I've never gotten presents from him before, because I've always messed it up somehow. That's what my dad always said." He pondered a moment longer. "Do you think Santa's even real?"

"Of course he's real! What's Christmas without Santa?"

"I still trust you," Oliver said, "but not much. Just enough to get by. There's still some things—but I guess I'll trust you about Santa. My dad says he's real and you say he's real so he probably is. Maybe Santa's just nicer to kids here because he feels bad for them."

Crutchie didn't answer. There was a pause in which Crutchie noticed that Oliver was staring at his crutch. "I bet you don't even need that crutch," the boy said suddenly. "I bet you just use it so people feel sorry for you."

Quietly, subtly, Crutchie pulled up the leg of his pants so Oliver could see his twisted leg. Oliver ignored this motion.

"It's just so dumb people—like me—trust you. And don't suspect you."

Crutchie just looked at him.

"I bet," Oliver continued, "That everyone's actually scared of you. Because of your fake crutch."

"Oliver, I—"

"You probably get mad a lot. And you use it when people aren't suspecting. This room? I bet it's not even just for talking. You probably drag kids in here when they're bad so no one can hear them crying."

"I would never—"

"You beat them, I bet. With your crutch."

Crutchie was stunned into silence.

"You being nice to everyone? It's probably all an act. You probably love to hear kids cry. You love the sound it makes when your crutch hits against a body."

Crutchie closed his eyes.

He knew that sound.

It would echo forever in his ears, mingled with his own strangled cries and the distant-sounding yells from his buddies.

He could see Snyder, leering over him, raising his own crutch with a savage glint in his eye.

Crutchie begged for mercy. But Snyder knew not the word.

And then…pain like he'd never felt. Snyder had hit him three times, and each whack brought excruciating pain throughout his body. Crutchie was shaking by the end of it, his body racking with uncontrollable sobs.

At the memory, Crutchie felt a tear slip down his cheek. The pale boy sitting in front of him must know that pain. And it was something Crutchie wouldn't wish on his worst enemies, let alone a troubled boy just trying to find a place in this world.

His crutch had been used for beating. But it never would be again, and he had to let Oliver know that.

Crutchie opened his eyes and immediately some sort of understanding passed between them. Oliver's expression could be read very clearly: _I've gone too far._

Crutchie finally brought himself to speak. "I've never beat anyone, Oliver." His voice was choked with emotion. "And I never will. You gotta understand that."

Oliver bit his lip, looking like he was trying not to cry.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked in a small voice.

"No. Heck, no. We've both been through some rough times. And…I think…I think we've both felt pain like no one should feel. Yeah?"

Oliver seemed ready to crack. "Yeah."

"Yeah." Crutchie rubbed his head and sighed. "And no way is either of us gonna feel it ever again. You got it?"

In response, Oliver threw his arms around Crutchie, sobbing. This surprised both of them, and they sat there for a long time, so long in fact that Violet got worried and tentatively knocked on the door.

"Crutchie? Everything all right? Dinner's nearly over."

With Oliver still clinging to Crutchie, he stood and opened the door. Violet stood wringing her hands, hoping she hadn't interrupted anything.

"We'se just finishing up," Crutchie said, then glanced at Oliver and gave Violet a very meaningful look. "We had a good meeting. I think Oliver will have his supper in the dormitory tonight, eh?" Oliver nodded.

As Violet walked down to get Oliver's dinner, Crutchie tussled the boy's hair. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

Oliver still wouldn't let go of Crutchie, so without saying a word about his sudden clinginess they walked together back to the empty dormitory.

Oliver held Crutchie's hand and led him to the window. They looked outside at the gently falling snow.

"I miss my dad," Oliver said softly.

Crutchie squeezed him tightly. "I know. But hey, at least we got each other."

After a moment's consideration, Oliver grinned and looked up at Crutchie. "Yeah. I think I really trust you now."

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><p><strong>Did I say a little angsty? I meant a lot. Yikes. Hopefully the cute part balanced it out. At least it ended well, right?<strong>

**Anyway, the next chapter will be happy and cheerful and completely make up for the angsty chapter.**

**-Sis21K**


	6. Chapter 6

**Merry Christmas Eve Eve! In case you haven't noticed, I absolutely adore Christmas, so this chapter is basically Christmas at the Refuge. It includes both Oliver's and Crutchie's POV. Enjoy!**

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><p>I woke up on Christmas to the sound of the other kids shouting at each other to wake up. It made me a little mad, but then I remembered that Crutchie said that everyone should be happy on Christmas. So when a boy ran over to me and started shaking me, I didn't yell at him or hit him. He was jumping up and down, saying, "Wake up, wake up, wake up! It's Christmas! We gotta hurry!"<p>

"Why?" I asked him.

"Because we have to all be ready and go downstairs together before we get any presents!"

Presents? The word made me scramble out of bed. The excited boy had gone, but there were others running around near me. "Are there really presents?" I yelled at no one in particular, and to my surprise, someone answered.

"Yes! Santa came!"

I had never experienced such excitement. Santa had actually come! He was real! He was nice to kids here. For the first time, I tried to fit in with the others, in last-minute hopes that I would get a present. The ones who had been there the longest were lining us up, and I quickly stepped into line. The boy next to me straightened my collar, and instead of getting angry I fixed his hair a little. Finally everyone was ready, and we walked down in a line completely silent. I walked like a soldier, stiff and straight.

As soon as we entered the kitchen the workers clapped for us and cheered. I didn't really know why. I looked at Crutchie and he gave me a big smile and a thumbs-up. That made me feel better. Violet started talking. "Good job, everyone! And guess what? It looks like Santa was here!" She motioned to the little tree in the corner that was surrounded by a mountain of lumps wrapped in newspaper.

The other kids went crazy and ran over, squinting at names written on the wrapping. I didn't move at first, because I was suddenly worried. What if everyone else had gotten one, but Santa had forgotten about me? Or maybe he still didn't think I had been good enough!

I went over to Crutchie because I didn't want to look like a baby. "What if I didn't get one?" I whispered.

Crutchie grinned. "Don't worry. You did."

"How do you know?"

"I checked earlier. I saw your name."

I looked into his eyes to make sure he was telling the truth, then with a whoop hurried over and started looking at the various sizes of presents. A tough-looking girl tapped me on the shoulder and thrust a package into my arms. "Here's yours, Oliver."

It said my name, Oliver, on the top. I tore it open and threw the newspaper aside. Inside were socks and shoes. At first I was disappointed. What kind of a stupid Santa would think I'd like socks and shoes? But then I looked down at my feet. My socks were full of holes and my shoes were scuffed and dirty.

I eagerly kicked off the old and put on the new. I had never noticed how my old shoes had pinched my toes. These new ones were roomy and comfortable. The socks were white, warm, and thick. I was content.

The rest of the morning and afternoon went by quickly. It was a blur of eating sweets (delicious), snowball fights (they were actually pretty fun once I decided to take part), and caroling (which I absolutely did not take part in, no matter how they urged me. I absolutely refused to open my mouth and sing, not only because I'd never heard the dumb songs but also because I had a reputation to keep.) I didn't even notice Crutchie had left until he came back.

We were sitting in the kitchen, drinking some sweet, milky thing, when the door banged open and Crutchie came in with a grin. "How's everyone's Christmas?" he asked, addressing all the kids.

"Good!" we chorused. I said it too, though I wished he'd just asked me. If he had, I would have said, "Great!" because it was.

"I think it's time for the workers to hand out presents!" he announced. The other workers came in behind him weighed down with more packages. Curiously, they were wrapped in newspaper, just as Santa's had been. I shrugged.

Each worker called out the names of kids they worked with. When Crutchie called my name, I jumped up and ran to him. He gave me a one-armed hug and a big package. It was a fluffy brown blanket, which I really liked because it was pretty cold at night. When I unfolded it, a pair of mittens fell out. A note was pinned to them, reading: _So you don't have to use your hands._

He must have known I'd thrown that snowball the other day! I wasn't sure whether to be angry or grateful, but when I looked up at Crutchie he gave me a knowing smile. I remembered what he'd told me and decided to be happy.

It was a wonderful Christmas, probably the best I've ever had. Even though my dad wasn't there, I didn't miss him as much.

Crutchie shut the door to the dark dormitory with a happy sigh. Another Christmas, gone. He limped downstairs to help clean up the mess of discarded newspaper, sticky candy, and spilt hot chocolate. He spotted Violet right away, armed with a wet rag and attacking the dirty tables with vigor.

"Hey, Violet," he said shyly, spearing a piece of newspaper with his crutch and crumpling it. "So, how was Christmas?"

"It was just wonderful, Crutchie," she murmured.

The other workers gave them their space, peeling off one by one into another room. Soon it was just Crutchie and Violet. They sat together at a table.

"I have a friend who's a reporter," Crutchie said. "She mentioned doing a story about the…"

"_She?_" Violet interrupted, giving him a look.

Crutchie stopped, confused, then understood. "She's married, Violet," he said.

"Just checking," Violet said with a relieved smile.

"Anyways, she was talking about doing a story about the new Refuge. She wanted to come in and have a look around."

"Sounds fine. It would be great to get people to know what we're doing."

There wasn't really anyone that was in charge at the Refuge. It was run by the young adults that worked together to make everything run smoothly. Crutchie wasn't sure who he should ask—or if he should ask at all—because though Katherine had every right to come look around without permission, he felt he should give the others some notice. He was reassured to know that Violet didn't mind.

The couple stood up and started walking out together. "My Christmas was even better because we're together," Violet said, batting her eyelashes.

"Me too," Crutchie agreed.

Violet pointed above them. They stopped in the doorway, and above their heads was—

"Mistletoe," they said together.

Crutchie grinned and Violet leaned towards him. They both closed their eyes.

As they kissed, cheers erupted from the stairs. Crutchie reddened but Violet waited to pull apart until they needed to breath. When they stopped, Crutchie's head snapped towards the stairs, where a bunch of kids were giggling in their nightclothes. They were out of bed when they weren't supposed to be, intruding on a quite private matter. However, Crutchie wasn't angry. In fact, he was quite proud.

Because in the front, leading the pack, was Oliver.

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><p><strong>Aw...adorable...<strong>

**So I got a sort-of-suggestion-thing from a guest reviewer, and Katherine Kelly will be coming in! As you can say, Violet can get just a tiny bit jealous, so that should be...interesting. Also, I know it seems like Oliver has completely changed...but unfortunately he hasn't. Let's just say, Christmas was a good day.**

**Anyways, now I need your opinions! What Newsies characters should I bring in next? Les again? Jack? Romeo? Who do you want? Decisions must be made! Please give your opinions! All feedback is appreciated!**

**-Sis21K**

**(P.S. I will be updating soon, since I'm on break!)**


	7. Chapter 7

**I hope you all had a merry Christmas/happy holidays!**

**The mysterious guest reviewer had been identified! Thanks to NCIS Band Geek, Katherine makes an appearance here! (So does Jack, because I just can't seem to get enough of him! And more people will be coming in as well...hint, hint.) I just wanted to thank everyone who has been reviewing, especially those of you who review each chapter. Oh, and the follows/favorites are great too. Thanks so much though to all of you who are supporting my writing! I really appreciate every single review, follow, or favorite. I will try my best to honor any and all suggestions!**

**Okay, serious moment over...on to the story!**

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><p>After Christmas, I didn't work so hard to behave. I mean, it <em>was<em> quite a lot of work for me, not getting angry and all that. So sometimes I slipped up.

Oh, all right. I slipped up a lot.

Take, for example, the day that a bunch of Crutchie's friends came to visit. Three, to be exact. Les, Davey, and someone named Jack. I already knew Les and Davey from...certain previous encounters…but I didn't know Jack and was, therefore, wary of him. Actually, I was wary of all of them. Les had not proven himself to be trustworthy, and Davey was the overprotective older brother. Les I knew I could take on, even though I didn't like him I knew that since we were kids they wouldn't let us near each other. Davey made me nervous, to be honest. He was clearly very intelligent, and when I fought Les in that little room, he gave me a look that told me very clearly that I was on his bad side now. He _disapproved_. And for some reason, that made me nervous.

Davey made me nervous. But Jack absolutely terrified me.

He carried himself as someone to be feared. The way he walked demanded respect. He was clearly a leader, not a follower. And though I wish I was a leader, I'm not. I'm just a kid. He was a big adult.

Jack and Crutchie were friends—best friends. I saw that right away. I've never had a friend, let alone a best friend. Those require trust, which I don't give away freely.

But…then I started thinking. I realized that I do, in fact, have a friend. Remember? I decided to trust someone, just one person. And since I only have _one_ friend, that would make that person my best friend, right?

Crutchie was my best friend.

Jack seemed to think Crutchie was _his_ best friend.

Crutchie couldn't have two best friends. That wouldn't be _best_ friends. That would just be regular friends. _Best _is a title to be given to one person only. Otherwise it doesn't count.

So I decided that since Jack had a lot of friends to choose from (Davey, for example, or Les), and since I only had one…that meant that Crutchie was my best friend. Not Jack's. Not anyone's but mine.

While I was deciding this, I must have been staring at them and not eating, because the kid next to me elbowed me. "Hey, wake up, Oliver. Your soup's getting cold."

I accidentally hit him. In the face. With my fist.

Twice.

Oh, fine…it was on purpose. But he deserved it.

Later, Crutchie brought me into the little room where I fought with Les that time. Only this time, instead of Les and Davey, I saw Jack.

"Hey, Oliver! How's it going?" he asked, standing up and looking all intimidating. I grabbed Crutchie's arm—just in case.

"Well, answer him, Oliver," Crutchie said after a moment.

"Fine," I replied in a small voice. I couldn't help it. Jack was just so…tall.

"This is Jack, Oliver," Crutchie said—a little late for introductions, I thought.

"I know."

Jack laughed. "Okay, Crutchie, you wanna give us a minute?"

I did _not_ want to be left alone with Jack, at all. I turned to Crutchie, hoping to convey my adamant negativity by looking at him. Jack was not a good person to be alone with. He was hiding his meanness behind that 'welcoming' smile of his. I did not like him at all.

He frowned. "I dunno, Jack." He leaned in towards Jack, speaking low so I couldn't hear—I did hear, though. "He's a little violent sometimes."

I nodded feverishly, glaring at Jack and clenching my fist. I had to try to intimidate him so he wouldn't want to talk to me.

Jack laughed and cracked his knuckles. "You think I can't handle a kid like that?"

Crutchie hesitated, but then to my dismay, nodded. "I guess you'se right. Just call if he starts…you know…acting out. But I'm sure you won't, eh Oliver?" He pried my fingers from his arm and closed the door.

I was alone with Jack.

It actually wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. He just told me some stories about when he was younger, working as a paper boy. 'Newsies' is what he called the boys over there. He asked me if I might want to work over there someday. I shrugged. I'd have to think about it.

I forgot to tell him he couldn't be Crutchie's best friend. I remembered only when they went to sit with Davey and Les for a late lunch. Crutchie would probably tell him soon, I figured, so I let it go.

Later, after they had all left, another visitor came, but she wasn't there just to talk to me. Crutchie was talking _about_ me to her though. I saw them looking and pointing at me, but pretended not to notice. He told everyone that her name was Katherine and that she was a reporter for some big newspaper place. She was doing a story about the new Refuge, so she was just going to 'observe' us.

I didn't like her, and she didn't like me.

I found out almost right away that she was Jack's wife, which was suspicious enough.

I went over to talk to Crutchie—because we're best friends—and she was sitting on a chair, looking around the room and writing things down. When I approached, Katherine narrowed her eyes at me and muttered something to Crutchie. She tried to be quiet, but she had a loud voice so I heard her anyway. "Is that the kid who keeps getting into fights?"

"Yep," Crutchie replied, much quieter.

I wanted to make sure she knew I'd heard her and was insulted. "I'll fight you too. And so will my father. When he gets outta jail." Ugh! Why did I always have to add that jail bit? To make up for it, I added, "Your husband is mean."

Katherine's jaw dropped. She was about to stand up and come for me, but Crutchie subtly stepped between us. "Oliver, this is Katherine." He leaned towards me. "And that wasn't a very nice thing to say. Jack was real kind to you. I think you should apologize to Katherine."

A few weeks before, I wouldn't have done it, but Crutchie and I _were_ best friends at that point. So I drawled, "Sorry."

But when Crutchie turned away, I took a step towards Katherine. "And his breath smells," I whispered, so she would know I wasn't really sorry. She glared at me.

I stayed with Crutchie (and Katherine) while the other kids ran around and played. Katherine wrote a lot of things down. I tried to peek at what she was writing, but she caught me, frowning angrily at me and huffing. Every time she looked up to watch the other kids, I would stand in her way so she had to lean around me. It made her so mad, and I laughed silently until Crutchie turned around. I had to act normal whenever he was looking, otherwise I'd get in trouble. He'd probably beat me with his crutch.

Oh yeah. He doesn't do that. I forgot.

Crutchie seemed to sense we didn't like each other, but he was dumb enough to keep looking away. Each time he did, Katherine and I had a silent battle. I laughed at her, she glared. I started whispering nasty things to her—when Crutchie couldn't hear, of course. "I bet you're a horrible writer. I bet Jack doesn't even like you."

Crutchie glanced back towards me. I closed my mouth and looked out the window. Katherine gave him a fake smile, and he grinned back at her, reassured that I wasn't being any trouble—even though I was. He hobbled towards a few kids that had gotten into a tussle over a stupid toy.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Katherine whipped her head towards me with a savage glare. "You are the most impossible—"

"Shh! Crutchie's coming." Her eyes widened and she looked around. Crutchie was nowhere near us now. I grinned. "Made you look."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "Ugh."

Unfortunately at that moment, Violet came over and told me to leave Katherine alone so she could get her work done. I obeyed with one last smirk in Katherine's direction, then went to sit by the window.

Sometimes I could see newsies selling outside, and today across the street I saw Les (what a surprise, with my luck) talking with a kid who looked just barely older than him. He had dark hair and kept smiling at the ladies strolling by. Les caught a glimpse of me and frowned. He nudged the other kid and pointed at me, so I stuck out my tongue at him. After a moment, Les gave me a pained smile and half-heartedly waved a newspaper at me. It was as if he was inviting me to sell with him one day.

Maybe I would.

Then again, maybe not. But the more I thought about it, the more appealing it sounded. Would my dad approve? I considered, picturing his face in my mind.

He probably wouldn't like me to become a newsie, I decided. He would probably beat me if I suggested it to him. I was starting to forget all the good times we'd had together; now the only things I could remember about my dad was the cane. I was beginning to realize that however much I liked him, he was really mean to me. And the longer I was away from him, the more I didn't want to ever see him again. I tried to picture what would happen if he came to the Refuge to try and break me out.

I wouldn't go with him.

I didn't want to live with him anymore. I didn't want to always be living in fear of what he would say or do. The last few weeks without him had been some of the best weeks of my life.

I had run away for a reason. Partially because I was afraid the cops were going to come after me too, after they carted my dad off to prison, but there was another reason as well. I was scared. I was afraid my dad was going to come back for me. Somehow he would make it all my fault, and I would receive the worst beating of my life. Maybe I wouldn't even make it out alive. That's why I needed to trust Crutchie. I was just a little kid. There was no way I could be safe from my dad if I was on my own. Crutchie would protect me, I was certain.

Thinking about all this, I didn't even notice at first that the door had banged open. Jack came running in, not even bothering to shut it behind him. He sprinted over to Crutchie, and Katherine stood up, looking worried. The room got quiet. Katherine went to Jack, asking, "Where's Bella?"

"She's fine," he murmured, then kissed her cheek. I was mesmerized. Katherine looked like she wanted to ask more questions, but Jack gently moved her aside and went to Crutchie.

"What's the matter, Jack?"

Jack was gulping for air, having apparently run a long way. He tried to keep his voice down, but he was breathing so hard he couldn't really control the volume of his voice. I heard him. The room was so quiet, I think everyone did.

"Snyder's coming."

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><p><strong>Okay, okay, I'm not even going to say anything about it. Shh...Review!<strong>

**-Sis21K**


	8. Chapter 8

**Wow, I update kind of a lot, don't I? It's just once I get started on a story like this, I can't seem to stop!**

**Thanks for all the great reviews, everyone!**

**This chapter's a little longer than what I usually write...but more newsies show up...and also-no! I'm not going to say any more because I don't want to ruin it! (Lavender? Matilda the Musical, anyone?) Anyways...ah...enjoy?**

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><p>Crutchie was in shock. Snyder? Coming back? It seemed like Jack was playing a sick joke on him. But one look at his face told Crutchie that Jack had never been more serious in his life. And besides, Jack would never joke about something like that.<p>

Crutchie grabbed Jack's arm and led him quickly down the hallway, out of everyone's sight. He pulled him into the first empty room he found, slammed the door, and stared up at Jack with wide eyes.

"What do you mean, Snyder's comin'? He's in jail, Jack." For a moment, Crutchie held onto a wild hope that Jack would laugh, pat him on the back, and tell him it was all a gag. But that hope was lost as Jack shook his head somberly.

"He paid the cops a lot of money to release him, cooked up some lies about how he wants to mend his old ways and be a part of the Refuge's improvement…and they believed him. That monster's coming, and we gotta stop him from taking this place over again."

Crutchie was rubbing his temples. "Whadya mean, 'we'? Jackie, this ain't your battle. We can figure it out. You don't even work here. You don't gotta worry."

Jack exploded. "You think I'm just gonna let him come? Don't even try to talk me outta this! Do you know how much hurt I went through at the hands of that monster? And it wasn't just me; tons of kids got beaten every day! This place used to be a living hell, and there is no way I'm going to let him take all the work you've done to help these kids out and throw this place into the flames again. I don't gotta work here to care about what happens to every single one of those kids downstairs. If Snyder gets his way…it's gonna be worse than it ever was before. And there is no way I'm gonna let that happen. Ever."

Crutchie gritted his teeth. He decided against reminding Jack that he'd experienced the wrath of Snyder too. He simply nodded and swallowed. "When's he coming?"

"Tonight. They're releasing him at eight. No doubt he'll come straight over here."

Crutchie closed his eyes. The situation seemed hopeless. "Well, we gotta tell the other workers. Do you…" He hesitated. "Do you think we should tell the kids?"

Jack mulled it over with a frown. There was silence as he gave the matter thought; Crutchie took a careful step backwards to give him some space. Finally Jack seemed to come to a decision. "Yes. But…" he held up a finger, "…you don't need to tell them everything. You don't want them to get scared. Just explain that the guy who used to own this place might be coming back, and since he wasn't very nice you'se gonna do all you can to keep him away."

Crutchie nodded again, relieved. "Sounds good. Real good, in fact." He gave Jack a sly smile. "Maybe you should just tell 'em."

Jack smiled grimly. "Would they believe me?"

"I'll stand beside you so they know I approve."

Jack laughed and assumed a deeper voice. "This message was approved by Crutchie."

Crutchie grinned and opened the door. They headed back down the hallway. However, by the time the children came into view, neither was smiling. The prospect of what was to come had them both in a solemn mood. They didn't even know the worst of it.

When Crutchie had explained the dire situation to the other workers, it was decided that for their safety the children would be confined to the dormitories. In the meantime, after Jack told the kids a clipped version of what was going on, he sent Katherine home to stay with their daughter, Bella. Crutchie ushered all the kids upstairs. There was some grumbling but mostly the kids seemed to be pretty scared. He tried to speak reassuringly to them, but it was hard when his own stomach was doing flips at the thought of coming face to face with Snyder again.

Violet appeared, letting Crutchie know that all the kids from the orphanage side of the Refuge were in their dormitories. The last of the stragglers from this side were heading up. Oliver was the last one to enter the room. He seemed more pale than usual and when he tried to talk to Crutchie, he stuttered. "I—how did he—what if he—you've gotta—"

Crutchie patted him on the back. "We'll keep you safe, Oliver. Don't worry." He gently pushed him through the door before Oliver could protest anymore. Violet was still standing there, and as he brushed past her, he muttered, "I think Oliver's heard of Snyder before. Maybe even been to the old Refuge."

"It's likely he has. Snyder used to be the biggest feared name for kids on the streets."

"I know." There was something still bothering Crutchie. He remembered that his first impression of Oliver had been that he hadn't been living on the streets for very long. Crutchie shrugged it off. He had more pressing things to worry about.

The rest of the afternoon, Jack, Crutchie, and all the other workers made plans for what seemed like every possible situation. They set up a watch system, with people stationed at each of the doors to the Refuge and outside each dormitory. Jack even got some of the old Manhattan newsies to come be ready to fight if Snyder showed up and threatened the kids.

Race was the first to show up, stepping through the door with a swagger. He spoke around his ever-present cigar. Crutchie doubted he even lit it anymore. "Don't worry about a thing, folks. We'll keep Snyder da Spider outta sight."

Right behind him was Romeo, who ran into Race's arms with a yelp. The two hadn't seen each other in months. After telling Crutchie that Les and Davey were on the way, he started chatting up a storm to Race, stopping every few minutes to just grab the elder's arm and grin up at him, as if he couldn't believe they were together again.

Slowly, more newsies started streaming in, greeting old friends with shouts. The entrance to the Refuge became full of the young men who were still boys at heart. They looked around in astonishment. Some of them had been thrown in the Refuge when Snyder was still running it. Crutchie couldn't believe how brave they were for coming back now to fight Snyder. Would he be as brave as them, if it came down to a fight?

It was like a reunion party for the boys that evening. Crutchie had to help carry up dinner to the kids, but every time he passed the newsies stuffing themselves in the kitchen, he had to grin. He had missed his brothers.

As the sky grew darker and eight o'clock drew nearer, the mood among the old newsies became solemn and tense. The dishes were cleared away, and everyone was left to think about whatever was going to happen. Faces paled, grins faded. Dread grew, and the air seemed thick with it. The workers silently took up their assigned watch posts shortly before the clock struck eight. Crutchie wasn't scheduled for a few hours, but he stayed with the newsies nevertheless. Violet gave them all a grim look as she took up her post at the front door. She closed it softly, and all eyes stayed there, on the door through which their worst enemy could come at any time.

The small grandfather clock in the kitchen struck eight.

The last rings died away, and Les spoke up. Crutchie was suddenly struck at how young and vulnerable Les sounded, though his voice had deepened and he was nearly as tall as Crutchie himself. "Maybe he won't come."

There was no reaction from the others, so he continued on nervously. "Maybe he'll know we're waitin', and just stay away."

"It won't stop him, Les." Jack's voice was weary. "It don't matter if we got a battalion of knights here. He's comin' no matter what."

"He don't stand a chance!" Romeo said boldly from the corner. There were a few half-hearted murmurs of agreement, but Race swatted his arm.

"_We_ don't stand a chance," he corrected glumly. "I say we get the little kids outta here while we still can."

"At least they'd be safe," Mush said. He shrugged. "For a while, anyway."

"No one's safe if Snyder's roamin' this town," Race said darkly.

Davey slammed his hand on the table and stood up. "Stop it! Look at yourselves! You're giving us up for the lost before we've even had a chance to try our hand against Snyder! Is that who we are?" He slapped Les on the back and looked around at all of them. "We've beat Snyder before. Who's to say we can't do it again?"

"Davey, the cops were on our side when we got Snyder in jail," Les moaned, seeming embarrassed of his brother's show of bravado. "Now they's on his side. Face it. Jack's right. We don't stand a chance."

Davey rolled his eyes. "We're all older now. It's one man against a bunch of newsies."

"Unless he brings his cronies," Henry said. "The Delancey brothers have gotten older too."

"If we beat them once, we beat them a hundred times!" Davey said in exasperation. He rubbed his forehead. "Jack! Tell them!"

Jack stood up too. "Listen, fellas. Davey's right. We can't back down now. We gotta try our luck against Snyder or we'll never forgive ourselves. If nothing else we get a little beat up."

"We're doing it for those kids!" Davey interjected.

"You heard Davey, we gotta think about them kids. Upstairs we got boys and girls sleepin'. Most of them have probably never heard of Snyder, huh? They've never been hit by him, and they never should. We've all taken hits, right? During the strike? We all got beat up. But they've never known that, and we gotta keep it that way. You hear me? Even if you'se all thinking we don't have a chance against him, at least we got each other. We watch each other's backs, and we watch those kids' backs, no matter what the cost. Now, are we gonna let that monster take over this place again, hurt those kids, make their lives miserable? Or are we gonna fight?"

"Fight," Les said after a moment.

Davey wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Fight!"

The other newsies took up the chant. "Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!"

A sudden loud pounding on the door silenced the shouts. Crutchie's heartbeat quickened. The door slammed open, and there stood the man from Crutchie's worst nightmare, the man he had prayed would never be seen free again.

Snyder stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the city lights.

Crutchie saw a figure on the ground outside. Violet was trying to get to her feet, having apparently lost her voice. A squeak issued from her mouth as she reached out, but Snyder kicked the door shut on her hand.

Snyder looked haggard. His scraggly beard hadn't been shaved in months, and sweat mixed with oil dripped down his forehead. But he had the same old horrible smirk on his face as he gazed around the room, the newsies staring, frozen. His eyes rested on Jack, and his lips curled back in a mocking snarl.

"Behold," he sneered, "the brave battalion."

Jack was the first to recover from the shock, but Crutchie could see he was shaking. "Whaddya want?"

"What do I want?" Snyder considered, stepping further into the room. "Hmm. Nothing you wouldn't be willing to hand over. If you want to see that pretty girl outside ever again." Crutchie gritted his teeth and took a step forward, but couldn't bring himself to go any closer to Snyder. What was happening to Violet outside? As if in answer to his thoughts, Snyder looked directly at Crutchie and smirked. "I've got those ever-loyal Delancey brothers taking care of her. She will be…shall we say…escorted, to the local prison. For trespassing on my private property." Crutchie narrowed his eyes. "Unless, of course, you comply with my rule."

"And what rule would that be?" Davey asked.

Snyder's gaze drifted over to Davey, whose hand was resting protectively on his brother's shoulder. He slowly smiled again, and started to walk closer to them. "Two boys. That's all I want. One of them you wouldn't even miss. This one"—he grabbed Les and yanked him to his feet by the hair—"you would. But it would be worth it for the price you'll pay if you don't comply."

"You can't—" Les was struggling.

"Silence, boy!" Snyder slapped him hard across the face.

Jack advanced towards him. "You are not taking anyone!"

"No! Jack!" Les was rubbing his face where Snyder had hit him. "You gotta let him! It's gonna be worse if you don't!"

"No way are you taking my brother!" Davey shouted.

"Let him take me!" Les yelled. "Davey! Jack, just let him!"

Jack pounced, knocking both Snyder and Les to the ground. He wrenched Snyder's grip away from Les—but that was all he could do before the tables were turned and Snyder was on top of Jack. Crutchie couldn't see what was happening. Jack shouted in pain, and when Snyder finally stood up, blood dripped from his nose and an ear. Snyder kicked him in the stomach, sending Jack reeling, curling up into a ball. Snyder glared around dangerously, as if daring any of the other boys to attack. Most of them were too busy pulling Jack out of harm's way.

"Very well," Snyder growled as the door banged open and the Delancey brothers came in with cruel grins. Violet slumped unconscious between them, and Morris held her while Oscar went towards Les. "I'll retrieve the other one myself. You will most certainly regret this." With a swish of his coat, he began climbing the stairs that led to the dormitory.

As soon as he was gone, Crutchie ran to Violet, but Morris shoved him to the floor. "You lousy crip!" he said gleefully.

The newsies were thrown into chaos. Some of them shoved their way past the others and hurried after Snyder; other chose to defend Les, who was already in Oscar's clutches. After a quick tussle, four of the newsies were sprawled on the floor and Les was being dragged by the collar towards the door. In a desperate attempt to prevent the inevitable, Crutchie swung his crutch at Oscar's feet as he passed. Oscar stepped right over it and kicked Crutchie in the head, making his eyes water and immediately giving him a pulsing headache.

Crutchie locked eyes with Les, who looked terrified but determined. He was struggling to get to his feet. "I'll get away," he mouthed at Crutchie. His next words were a shout as Oscar dragged him out the door. "Just save the others!"

His selflessness is what gave Crutchie the strength to get to his feet and lunge after Violet, who was being dragged outside by Morris. "No!" he shouted. Oscar suddenly turned around and yelled the same thing, like an echo.

"No! Leave her! Boss wants to hand her in himself!"

Morris growled and left Violet in the doorway. They disappeared onto the streets with Les in tow.

Jack was regaining his composure and had started yelling at the boys trying to tend to his wounds. "Are you crazy? Get your butts upstairs right now! You gotta save those kids! That's the whole point of this! Leave me! Leave Crutchie! Crutchie, come here! Go! Go! Go!" he screamed.

The few boys that were left turned to Davey, who was sitting with his head in his hands and not offering any guidance. Race made the decision for them. "You heard Jack! Go!" They sprinted for the stairs. Crutchie tried to get to his feet and follow them, but fell to the ground with dizziness.

"Crutch, come here."

"I gotta go…help them…what was I thinking, that shoulda been the first thing…"

"You won't be any help up there. You can barely move. Just get over here."

Crutchie crawled across the floor to Jack and heaved himself onto a chair, his head collapsing on Jack's shoulder. "It's all over now," he moaned. "They kidnapped Les…Snyder's up in the dorms…he's comin' for Violet…" the thought made his head spin. "Violet! Oh, no…Jack, you gotta help her! Jack! He's gonna—"

"Can't," Jack said quietly.

Crutchie's heart skipped a beat. "She's not…"

"No, she's not dead," came a bleak voice from the corner. Davey was looking across the room at Violet through his fingers. "She's just unconscious. If we try to move her, we could hurt her even more."

Crutchie buried his face in Jack's shirt. He couldn't believe any of this was happening. To make matters worse, a loud thumping sound came from the stairwell, and several bruised guys tumbled down.

"He's using a cane, swinging it around," gasped Romeo, who was among them and speaking through a bloody nose. "Right after he shoved us all down the stairs, I saw him headed towards the guy who was guarding the door to the kids' room."

Davey stood up, an angry glint in his eyes. "We should be ready to ambush him when he comes back."

"No." Jack carefully pushed Crutchie off his shoulder and shook his head. "Davey. You gotta go after Les. Take a couple of these guys." He motioned at the boys in a heap on the floor, who reluctantly disentangled themselves and stood up, ready to follow Davey. Jack squared his jaw. "I'm going up there."

"But Jack, you can't—"

"Davey, go," Crutchie said feebly. "We'll do our best here."

"You just stay outta the way," Jack added sternly to Crutchie. "You'se hurt enough as it is."

"So are you."

Jack wasn't listening. As Davey and the others ran outside, he was preparing himself to seek out Snyder again. He clenched his fists, hesitating just below the bottom step. Crutchie watched him with apprehension, and noticed the moment when something changed in his face. All of a sudden, Jack was backing away, and several more newsies tumbled out of the stairwell.

Snyder appeared, kicking the newsies who rolled in his way, who moaned in pain. He did indeed wield a cane, which he used to slam down on the newsies trying to get to their feet to stop him-such as Race, who swore as Snyder's cane hit him over the head. He'd been trying to trip Snyder.

Suddenly, Crutchie stood up. His head spun, his ears rang, and his entire body ached. But he pushed through the pain, because in Snyder's grasp was a boy. He was being pulled along by the shirt, looking absolutely terrified but seeming unable to bring himself to fight the man holding him hostage.

It was Oliver, and through the various groans of pain Crutchie could hear the constant monologue he uttered through trembling lips.

"No…please, no…I don't want to…stop hurting them…stop, please, stop…no…don't take me back…"

And then, something that shocked Crutchie, shocked everyone it seemed, but Snyder.

"Dad!" Oliver whispered. "Please don't hurt me!"

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><p><strong>Gasp! What?!<strong>

**Review!**

**-Sis21K**


	9. Chapter 9

**Standard disclaimer. Oh, and if you didn't read the last chapter, you might want to. It was kind of important. I updated it soon after the one before it so maybe some people missed it. I don't know. Enjoy!**

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><p>I woke up to a horribly familiar voice rasping in my ear.<p>

"Get up, boy. We're leaving."

As there had been nothing much to do that evening, I had gone to bed early and a lot of other kids had too. By the time _my dad_ forced his way into the dormitory, everyone was in bed.

He pulled me out of bed by my ear, then shifted his grip to my arm. I looked around at the others, some of whom were sitting up in bed, looking terrified. I opened my mouth to yell for help but no words came out.

Outside the dormitory my dad and I were ambushed by a bunch of beat-up looking guys. Before then I hadn't noticed what was in my father's other hand—the cane. I couldn't take my eyes off it, even as he swung it around mercilessly to get the guys out of his way. Two of them tried to grab me and pull me away from my dad, but he knocked them down with one swoop.

A few more brave guys tried to stop us from going down the stairs, but with a sickening crack, the cane collided with one of their heads and knocked the rest of them off their feet. They clattered down the stairs in front of us. At the very bottom of the stairs I saw Jack. I didn't know who I'd rather face: my father or Jack. I had no choice but to face my father now, though, as he still hadn't let go of me and was now dragging me towards the exit. I became aware that I was speaking, though the words spilled forth from my mouth of their own accord. I was begging him not to take me, not to hurt me…I wished he would just leave and let us all alone.

The same young man who had been hit in the head before now struggled to his feet, but my dad hit him again and he fell to the floor.

I used to get a kind of sick pleasure at seeing my dad hit anyone but me, but now the pleasure was gone and all I felt was sick.

They were going to let him take me. There was nothing they could do. I wildly scanned the room, in desperate search of someone who could help me, and I saw Crutchie. But he was in no state to help me; blood oozed from a cut on his head, and his eyes were slightly unfocused. But when he saw me, he got to his feet, probably to try and stop my dad from taking me. Was he stupid or what? Luckily he collapsed right back down into the chair, too weak to get any closer to the cane. I didn't want to find out what would happen if cane met crutch.

My dad let go of me and I stood stupidly in the middle of the floor while he dragged Violet to her feet. She must have been knocked out earlier, but she was coming to. She started struggling as soon as she saw who had her, but a whack from the cane made her stop. I saw a motion out of the corner of my eye—Jack was frantically motioning for me to run.

My feet seemed stuck to the floor; everything was frozen. I couldn't have run if I wanted to. Before I could even try, my father's iron grip was back on my arm and I walked out behind him. "I'll be back," he said threateningly, then slammed the door.

He put us both in a carriage he had waiting. Violet was dropped off at the jail, and I watched her get handcuffed and led inside. My dad took me to the basement of our old apartment. "Got it rented out," he explained with a sinister grin. Two men I'd never seen before were there, waiting with smirks on their faces.

"He didn't even put up much of a fight," said one of them, seeming satisfied.

My father laughed. "Neither did my son, here."

"That's him, huh?" The other man dropped into a mocking bow. "Morris and Oscar Delancey. Pleasure to meet you." His brother chuckled.

"You'll be staying here," my father said, pushing me toward a door that was locked and barred. "So none of your little friends come looking for you," he added. I winced as I felt the cane on my back, pushing me in. Oscar Delancey unbarred and unlocked the door, returning the key to his pocket with a wink at me. My father jabbed the point of the cane into my back so hard that I fell to the floor. With a slam and a click, the door was closed and locked again. I was alone in what looked like an old prison cell.

However, I soon discovered I was not alone. A dusty, flickering light bulb on the ceiling revealed another figure crouched in the shadows. After a moment, he stood up, and I scurried backwards.

"Oh, don't be like that. It's just me."

It was Les. He pulled me to my feet and we stared each other down. I had half a mind to beat him to a pulp here, where no one would disturb us, but he seemed to sense this and shook his head. "We can't fight each other now. We'se on the same side." He spoke in a hoarse whisper, glancing at the door, clearly knowing that it was being guarded by the Delancey brothers. "If we work together, maybe we can get out of here."

"What if I don't want to get out of here?" I retorted. He looked at me like I was crazy.

"Are you insane? You know who that is out there? That's Snyder the Spider, and if he's got us trapped there ain't nothing good coming for us."

"That's my dad," I said loudly. I heard a laugh on the other side of the door. Les looked astonished.

"Your dad?" he said incredulously. "But—"

"Yeah, and he's gonna beat you up."

Les blinked. He stared at the door, thinking hard. In the silence I looked around the small room. There were no windows. The walls were made of brick. The only objects in the room were a tiny bed, where Les had been crouched, and a bucket, probably for pee.

Les spoke again, this time in a kindly tone. "He's going to beat you up too."

"No he's…" I realized the truth of his words halfway through my protest. "…not."

"Yes, he is," insisted Les. "You know he is. Look, I'm sorry you've got such a mean father, but you've gotta realize that he's coming back."

"He'll use the cane," I murmured, hardly aware of what I was saying.

"That's right," Les said, rubbing his shoulder, where I figured my dad had smacked him.

"But how? How can we get out?" I exclaimed hopelessly. I decided to trust Les, at least for now.

Les put a finger to his lips and looked towards the door. "Shut up!" he hissed desperately.

It was too late. The door creaked open, and the two Delanceys came in.

"Boys, boys. What are you talking about?"

I took my cue from Les and kept silent.

"Not about escape, surely?" Morris grinned. I lowered my eyes. They knew.

"No," Les said, and my head snapped up. Was he crazy? "We were just wondering about where we're going to use the toilet."

The two horrid brothers glanced at each other, considering. Finally Oscar laughed. "What do you think the bucket is for?" he asked nastily.

"Oh, and you'd better hold as much as you can, because we're only emptying it once a day," Morris added.

"Wouldn't want it to get too smelly," said Oscar.

"Or…you know…overflow." Morris grinned at his brother.

"Might make a fine mess, and Mister Snyder won't be so happy then."

Cackling, they slammed the door and resumed their guarding post. Les stared at the door for a moment, then turned to me.

"You gotta be quiet. They can hear everything unless you whisper." For once I didn't argue. He was right. And I had to trust him now; otherwise I'd never be able to escape.

It turns out, sharing a jail cell with Les wasn't very fun. We argued over who got to sleep on the cot so loudly that the Delanceys came in and boxed both our ears. Les played the peacemaker after they left and told me I could have the cot. Not to be shown up, I frowned and told him to take it. He was the oldest, after all. We started shouting at each other again, earning another ear-boxing. Finally we decided to just share it, which was pretty lousy, but it sure beat sleeping on the cold, hard floor.

The next morning, I woke up with his foot in my face. I pushed Les off me and went to use the bucket, which still stank even though it had been emptied the previous night. Our whole room was starting to smell like pee.

My dad didn't show up for a full three days. Oscar and Morris just got worse, boxing us every chance they got. I started looking up to Les for support; he was my only hope. But he wasn't getting much further in figuring out how to get us out of there. I missed Crutchie and dreaded the day that my dad would come. But when he did come, he didn't bring good news.

My dad made everything worse that day. He took Les from me, and replaced him with Jack.

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><p><strong>I know it was kind of short and left on a cliffhanger, but all will be explained in good time. Thanks for the reviews, don't forget to leave me one now!<strong>

**-Sis21K**


	10. Chapter 10

**This chapter has a bit of Jack's point of view for the last...eh, third. It's kind of backtracking so you understand why Jack is now locked up with Oliver. So, yeah...enjoy! Well, as much as you can...it's pretty angsty...**

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><p><em>The cane slammed down on Oliver, over and over again, and the boy was screaming as blood poured from his head, but then he was still…silent… and Crutchie was the one screaming…Snyder was approaching him with an evil grin…<em>

Crutchie's eyes flew open. He was laying in a bed, drenched in sweat, a terrible pain pulsing through his head. How long had he been out? The last thing he remembered was Snyder dragging Oliver and Violet out the door, before the pain became too much and he blacked out…

Crutchie sat up a little, feeling all the blood rush to his head. He was alone in the room he shared with another Refuge worker. His pillow had a spot of blood on it; Crutchie touched the tender skin on his head where he'd been kicked. The sun seemed to be just rising outside, casting an eerie glow in the room.

Crutchie heard slow, uneven steps in the corridor, and his pace quickened. They drew nearer and nearer and then stopped. Crutchie gulped. The door creaked open and Snyder stepped inside, grinning wickedly. His cane was still in his hand. Crutchie gave a small groan.

Out of one nightmare, into another.

"I see you've awoken," Snyder hissed. "Good. We need you downstairs."

"What do you…?"

"Breakfast, you cripple! Or has your mind been muddled?"

Crutchie, very briefly, entertained the possibility of pretending he had lost his memory. For a fleeting moment, he strongly considered attempting to pull it off. But then he thought of everyone who needed his help—the children, who would be frightened…the workers, most of whom had never dealt with Snyder before…and not to mention Violet…and Oliver…and Les…

Crutchie swung his good leg over the side of the bed, pulling his bad one along after it, and scanned the room for his crutch.

"Looking for something?" Snyder asked silkily.

"Uh…yeah. My crutch."

"Broken," Snyder said triumphantly, chuckling at the horrified look on Crutchie's face. It was like he'd been waiting a long time for such a drastic event to happen to the cripple who'd booted him in jail. "Well, come on! I haven't got all day!"

Crutchie blinked. How could he walk without his crutch? It had been his constant companion since he was a very young boy. He hopped clumsily to the door, nearly falling a few times, as his bum leg threw him off balance. His head positively throbbed.

The stairs were even harder to descend than usual; on each step, Crutchie's bad leg dragged down with a dull thump. It was slow progress, not made any less stressful by Snyder breathing down his neck the whole way, occasionally prodding him in the back with his dreaded cane. Crutchie's eyes were narrowed in concentration at his feet, but he looked up when he heard someone call his name.

"Crutchie!" It was Jack, looking very beat up and nervous. "Oh, man…I thought you was…here, quick, we fixed it for you…" He ran over, holding—Crutchie's heart soared—the crutch, wrapped around the middle with a stiff-looking blanket that had been fastened into place to prevent the whole thing from snapping in half again. Crutchie sighed in relief and opened his mouth to thank Jack.

"You!" Snyder barked. "What are you doing?"

For having been beat nearly to death by this man the previous evening, Jack addressed Snyder with an unexpected swagger. "Who, me? Just giving Crutchie his crutch back. You see, he can't really walk without it."

"I didn't ask for your lip!" Snyder snarled, banging his cane on the bottom stair. "Mark my words, boy, you won't be returning home tonight!" He pushed Crutchie out of his way and Crutchie stumbled to the ground, but despite the ache in his head regained his feet quickly. Snyder was advancing towards Jack, who suddenly looked pale and fearful and was backing up quickly. Crutchie glimpsed the children of the Refuge sitting at the tables, completely quiet and watching the scene unfold with terrified expressions. A few had silent tears running down their cheeks. Crutchie limped as fast as he could over to them, stealing a glance into the next room where the orphan section of the Refuge was supposed to be eating. His heart sank. Not one of the orphans remained. All that were left were the jail-kids. The newsies must have made sure the others had escaped.

"You! Cripple!" Snyder's harsh voice rang out. Crutchie froze and slowly turned back around. "What are you doing?"

"Taking care of the—"

"They can take care of themselves. Can't you, children?" When no one responded, his tone turned dangerous. _"Can't you, children?"_

"Yes, Mister Snyder!" the children chorused faintly.

"Get over here!" It took a moment for Crutchie to realize Snyder was speaking to him again. "Now!" But Crutchie was frozen in his spot. Snyder crossed the room with a few long strides and seized him, knocking his crutch to the ground. The children scattered, knocking plates and silverware to the floor, backing up against the walls. Jack, who had been sprinting for the door as soon as Snyder's back was turned, stopped and stared with wide eyes. Snyder laughed. "That's right, Jack. Don't run away again."

"Again?" Jack asked with an attempt at confidence.

"Yes. Again. Or did you forget that you deserted your little cripple friend three nights ago?"

Jack's jaw dropped. He met Crutchie's eyes with a pleading look. "I had t-to…go home…Kath was worried…"

"Don't bother me with the trivial things of your life! Now see here, Jack. Who do you value more? Your family or your friend here?"

"He is my family!" Jack yelled fiercely.

"That's what I thought. Now, if you just come with me, the cripple won't get hurt. If you try to stop me again, though…the consequences will be harsh, for both you and him." With that, Snyder shoved Crutchie to the ground and kicked his crutch away. A young boy reached out and grabbed it as it slid across the floor, and the children silently passed it down, making sure it was as far away from Snyder as possible. Crutchie admired their quick thinking, but worried how he'd stand up. The kids had thought of this, though. The boy who ended up with the crutch crouched, his eyes on Crutchie, ready to dash over and give it to him when the time came. Crutchie managed a shaky smile.

Jack inched towards the door. "Don't hurt him," he pleaded.

"I won't, if you come with me."

Jack locked eyes with Crutchie. He raised his eyebrows ever so slightly. Crutchie gave the tiniest of nods. Jack gulped and glanced at Snyder, then widened his eyes at Crutchie. _Are you sure? _Crutchie nodded again. Snyder seemed unaware of their unspoken conversation.

Jack took a deep breath, then saluted to Snyder. "You gotta catch me first!" Crutchie had a fleeting vision of him saying the same thing, many years ago, to a certain Delancey, who was also trying to hurt Crutchie.

In telling Jack without words to run, Crutchie had hoped that Snyder would give up. He knew there was a huge chance that Snyder would beat him to a pulp, but he was willing to risk that for Jack's safety. But with mounting horror, he realized that Jack would never leave Crutchie in danger. Jack knew Snyder better than Crutchie did, and he knew that Snyder would never let him get away without a chase.

Snyder dashed out the door, and the children ran to the windows. The boy brought Crutchie's crutch over to him, which he took with a grateful smile.

He joined the children at the windows, where he saw Jack running in the distance and Snyder puffing after him. Both turned a corner, and with a sigh he turned away. His duty was here now, taking care of the children. Jack could take care of himself.

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><p>Jack was resting in a fire escape with a fervent hope that Snyder would run by him. But that was not the case.<p>

"I'll make a deal with you, Kelly." The silky voice came from directly below him. Jack stood up, tension racing through his body, but Snyder made no action to pursue him on the fire escape. He was standing with both hands resting on his cane, looking as though they were in the middle of a pleasant conversation.

Jack was too exhausted to respond, so Snyder continued. "Right now, I've got that young Jacobs boy locked in an apartment basement. I'm sure his family is worried for him." Anger surged through Jack. Of course they were all worried for Les! It had been three days since they'd last seen him! He wondered vaguely if Crutchie knew how long he'd been blacked out…

"So I'll make a deal with you," Snyder repeated. "I'll let the youngest Jacobs boy go, in exchange for you."

"Me?" Jack burst out.

"You. It's a deal I've been pondering for days. It seems the most logical thing to do. And how could you _live_ with yourself if you turned it down?"

Snyder was right. Jack couldn't live with himself if he turned it down. Les needed to escape, and if it was at Jack's own expense…well, he'd escaped from Snyder before, who was to say he couldn't do it again?

"I'll take it," he spat.

"Good, good."

After climbing down, he fell into step beside his worst enemy, who didn't hold onto him for some reason, probably trusting that Jack wouldn't try to run away. Jack thought of Katherine, and of their daughter. They would be worried when he didn't come home. He resolved to return to them as soon as he could. Though…he was giving up hope now…the cops were on Snyder's side…they wouldn't listen to him…if he ever did escape...

Jack was in a melancholy mood when Snyder led him to the basement of an old apartment, past the jeering Delancey brothers, and into a room which stank of body waste. Two boys were crouched in the corner, huddled on a single cot with their arms wrapped around each other. Snyder spoke harshly to them, but Jack wasn't paying attention.

The boys both flinched as he approached them, and Jack stood obediently right inside the doorway. Snyder tore Les away from the other boy, who whimpered. "Back to your family. This young man has agreed to take your place. Aren't you going to thank him?"

But Les seemed too stunned. He found his voice only when the door had slammed shut, locking Jack in with small Oliver. They both heard the desperate voice of Les as he was led away. "Jack, no!"

The deed was done, however. Jack was locked up, at the mercy of Snyder the Spider and the infamous Delancey brothers, and his only companion was a young boy who couldn't yet seem to tell right from wrong.

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><p><strong>A warning: enjoy these daily updates while they last, because once I'm back in school I won't update quite as often. Don't forget to review!<strong>

**-Sis21K**


	11. Chapter 11

**Back to Oliver's POV. It's just kind of a cute little chapter. I hope it doesn't seem too rushed. Standard disclaimers apply. Thanks to all who reviewed!**

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><p>"Just—just don't talk, okay?" I whispered hoarsely. I glanced at the door, which had just shut. The thick wood couldn't block out the horrible sound of cruel laughter.<p>

Jack didn't answer. He didn't even seem to know I was there.

I pressed myself tightly into the corner of the wall and pulled a blanket up to my chin. It couldn't take the place of a warm body next to me, however. The stone room seemed colder without Les, who had become the second person I had decided to trust. It had only happened within the last hours before he was taken from me. We'd just received another beating from the Delanceys, and he had started to cry. I never cry. I was starting to think Les was like me in that, but I was wrong. He cried only in his worst despairing moments. He had thrown his arms around me and sobbed, "We're gonna die here, Oliver!" I had squeezed him tightly but said nothing back, because I was beginning to come to the same bleak conclusion. I held him like a lifeline; his body was the only thing keeping me in this world and stopping me from submitting to a darkness that seemed to seep into my mind and freeze my senses. It was hours, then, before the thought slowly crept into my head: _I trusted Les._

And then he was gone. My only source of comfort had disappeared, and was replaced with Jack. I was still scared of Jack.

When my father came in to take Les, I didn't even realize what was happening. I thought the Delanceys had come to give us another blow. But when I recognized my dad's figure, all seemed lost. Any plans I'd had to beg, plead, or bargain my way out of this nightmare evaporated. I realized in that moment that he didn't love me, he probably never had. And I no longer loved him.

Jack fell to his knees. I tried to make myself as small as possible against the cold wall. He took a shaking, ragged breath, then let it out. I saw his eyes flicker up to me.

"Y-you can have the c-cot," I offered in a whisper.

Again, he didn't seem to hear me. His eyes swept around the room, lingering for a moment on the door and on the cot.

"W-what's happening?" I whispered, silently pleading for any news of Crutchie.

He took another deep, shuddering breath.

Then he screamed.

"AAAAAAUUURRRRRRGGGHHH!"

I leapt in a panic off the cot and dashed across the room to another corner, the thin blanket I'd wrapped myself in billowing out behind me like a cape. I hunched on the floor, shaking horribly. Jack took no notice of me. He kicked over the bucket of piss—its contents spilt across the floor—and then he stomped and screamed again. This time it was an audible word.

"NOOOOOO!"

He stormed over to the cot I had just vacated and overturned it. At this point I was convinced he was barking mad.

He tore the remaining sheet from the bed, bunched it up and threw it at the ground, then stomped on it several times. He kicked the cot hard, still shouting indistinct angry words at the top of his lungs. "Yah!" He pressed it up against the wall and punched it until it fell to the floor, where he kicked it away. "Ugh!" The blanket was shredded with a loud ripping sound, and when no more damage could be done to the cot, he whirled around and looked at the room. His narrowed eyes quickly found me, and with a grunt he started towards me.

I desperately tried to push myself through the wall, but it didn't matter; about halfway to me he seemed to decide against the idea of ripping me to shreds and contented himself with pounding on and kicking the door.

I could have warned him this was a bad idea. Not a moment after he had stepped back, the door swung open and both Delanceys swaggered in, looking delighted. "Well, well, well," Oscar said. "Jackie's having a tantrum."

"Mister Snyder gave us permission to handle you as we see fit," Morris added, cracking his knuckles menacingly.

But before they could spring on him, he had attacked, swinging his fists with angry gusto, not caring which one he made contact with, as long as he was making them _hurt_. I watched with a kind of terrified fascination as blood splattered the ground, mixing with the spilled piss. The Delanceys fought back as soon as they realized what was happening, managing to give Jack a black eye, but he was still clearly beating them. Angry Jack was clearly not to be messed with. However, one of the Delancey's managed to aim a kick in his stomach, and Jack stopped fighting for a moment. He fell to his knees, doubled over in pain. Oscar gave him one last kick in the chin, and then the brothers stepped away.

"Our work here is done," Morris said, breathing heavily and speaking through a nose that was steadily dripping blood.

They opened the door.

I didn't realize what I was doing until my foot made contact with Oscar's knee. In a daze I had stumbled across the room and kicked him. His leg buckled, but he recovered and turned around with an angry glint in his eye. Before I could back away, both his fists had come around and nailed me square in the ears. Both ears ringing, I staggered back to the corner where I'd left the blanket and collapsed.

I never passed out, but the next few hours were blurred. I didn't quite realize what was happening. Jack had stopped his angry rampage, the Delanceys were gone, and all was silent. I awoke out of my daze when I felt a presence beside me. I struggled to sit up, but a firm hand pressed on my chest kept me on the floor. It was Jack. I shuddered involuntarily.

"Shh…" he said soothingly, though I hadn't said a word. "It's all right. I'm not going to hurt you, okay Oliver? I just want to help you."

"How?" I squeaked. I didn't want his help. Much. I mean, he was the only other person in this horrible prison of my dad's.

"You'se gonna be just fine, all right?" He didn't sound too sure of himself. I raised my head enough to look around the room. Jack had cleaned up the mess he'd made by spilling the bucket; a now-shredded, piss-soaked blanket was in the corner. The cot had been set right.

"How?" I repeated.

Jack sighed.

"I don't really know," he admitted. "But…we gotta keep our heads up, all right? We can't let them get to us. If Snyder wants to play this game, we just gotta play along until we can escape. And that means a couple of rules we gotta set for ourselves."

"Like what?" I croaked.

"First off, no more fighting the Delanceys. They can make our lives worse than they ever was before this. What I did a while ago? That was stupid. I was upset, and I let my temper take over. They's gonna make me pay." He held up a finger. "Hey, and when they do? When they come back? And don't think they won't! Then you gotta stay outta the way, okay? They ain't gonna kill me, they'd be too scared of what Snyder would say. I know I'm gonna get beat up for what I did to them earlier, but you gotta promise me that you just stay outta the way, okay? _Okay_?"

"Yeah," I whispered.

"Good. It'll take a lot more to hurt me than it will to hurt you, and we'se gotta be in our prime when we escape, otherwise we don't have a chance. Now, second rule: we'se gonna do our best to not give the Delanceys—or Snyder—any reason to beat us up anymore."

"Huh?"

"What I mean is, we'se gonna keep quiet. We ain't gonna talk except in a whisper. We gonna act humble. They brings us our food? We take it. We don't talk. We eat the food. We put the plates by the door in a nice neat stack. We keep that bucket as empty as we can. At the end of the day, we puts it by the door for them. We don't complain about anything. We don't ask when we'se gonna be released. We don't ask anything. They think they've humbled us enough, they'se gonna let down their guard. That's when we gotta escape, all right?"

"Snyder's my father," I said in response. It seemed important that he know this.

"I know, kid."

There was silence in the room for a moment.

"You got plans, kid?"

I was startled. "What do you mean? We're stuck here, ain't we?"

"Yeah, I know, but after we get out. And don't you worry, we will. What's your plan for life?"

I sighed. "I dunno. Haven't thought about it." It seemed silly to be talking about such a thing to Jack. But the thing was, Jack didn't seem so scary anymore, now that he was talking to me about escape. He wanted to help me.

"Cause I think you could do big things," Jack continued in a whisper. "You could get into business. You're strong minded. You got aptitude."

I didn't know what that meant, but it sounded like a good thing.

"You think?"

"Sure, I think! You could be great! You gotta have a dream, something you can hold onto in bad times like this. If you think about something you really, really want, it will take you there in your mind, and for a while, you'll be happy."

"That sounds dumb."

"But it's not," Jack said with a smile. "No matter how far away that dream is, you can reach it. My dream? It used to be to go to Santa Fe."

"Where's that?"

"Out west. It sounds crazy, I know. But whenever I had a spare moment, I'd think about the rolling green hills, and imagine myself riding a palomino down the streets of a city that was different from New York."

"Maybe, when I'm rich, I can take you there." I don't know what made me say it. He said it was his old dream, but he still seemed passionate about it.

"Maybe, kid. Maybe."

My vision was going blurry, but it wasn't from pain, though my ears still throbbed. I was just tired. Jack lifted me up effortlessly, gently carried me across the room, and lay me in the cot. My head lolled against his chest.

As I fell asleep, there was one thought that was on my mind.

Jack Kelly was officially the third person I trusted.

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><p><strong>Reviews make my day!<strong>

**-Sis21K**


	12. Chapter 12

**Well, it's been a while, but I'm finally back! Thanks to all the reviewers, especially those of you who review each chapter. I really appreciate.**

**On a side note, I'd like to formally apologize for the one shot I wrote, (The Baby-you should check it out if you're into angst/hurt/comfort) which was very angsty and sad and...just, sorry. _This is much happier, I promise! _So anyways, back to the story!**

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><p>With Snyder breathing down everyone's necks, scaring the children, and not giving out any information about Jack, Les, and Oliver, Crutchie's days had turned into a horrible monotone of trying to keep everyone's hopes up even though his had all but vanished. None of the workers or children were allowed to leave the Refuge. Snyder stalked about the place tapping his dreaded cane on the floor menacingly. Most of the kids hadn't spoken a single word in days. It was becoming the Refuge from Crutchie's nightmares—and he was being forced to impose Snyder's rules.<p>

Even when Snyder left, he warned everyone that there were cops standing by, always watching. If someone tried to escape, Snyder would find out. And Snyder would find _them_.

It was a fear of him that kept Crutchie inside. But someone who didn't know such a fear wasn't kept outside.

"Katherine?" Crutchie gasped, as the young woman flew through the front door the day after Snyder ran after Jack. She looked around, slowly taking it all in. The kids were upstairs, but there weren't the shouts of laughter and pounding of feet that usually echoed down the staircase. The entire Refuge had adopted a silent, frightening air.

"Crutchie—where's Jack?"

"He's—well, I don't really know. Snyder went after him and—"

"No!"

"I don't know what happened to him. Snyder hasn't been back since yesterday—you'se just lucky he ain't back now, Katherine! We'se being watched…the cops…"

Katherine dismissed the notion with a wave of her hand. "Ugh, I told him not to go, it was too dangerous. You could have gotten your crutch another way, he didn't have to run off—"

"Snyder ain't lettin' anyone in or out of this place, and besides, I was still laid up when he came."

"Jack Kelly, you are so stubborn! When is he going to learn that sometimes he has to think before he acts?" Katherine said exasperatedly over Crutchie.

"Listen, Katherine, you gotta get outta here. Snyder could be back any second."

"Well, then we'll deal with him." Katherine pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper from her pocket and smoothed it out against the wall. She handed it to Crutchie. "Here, read it. As soon as Jack came home and told me that Snyder was coming back, I started writing this. He read it before he…left…but this is going to be the final copy. I wrote to the governor," she explained, in answer to Crutchie's questioning look. "He helped our cause before, he might do it again. He must remember how the old Refuge was, and…well, I think I made some pretty good points about Snyder in there to persuade him," she said modestly, pointing at the paper. "But…" her eyes filled with tears. "We've got to help Jack! I'm sure Snyder managed to talk him into doing something 'brave' and he's probably got him…we've got to help him!" she moaned.

Crutchie's eyes were trained on the window. It seemed absurd, but a moment ago he'd seen Davey rush past, leading—Crutchie could hardly believe it—Les.

And Crutchie's ears had picked up Les' shouts over the sound of Katherine's voice.

"But Davey, he's got Jack!"

The last word got Katherine's attention. She froze, then whirled around to face the window. But the brothers were gone.

"It was them," Crutchie confirmed in a low voice, adding up the new information. "He must have traded Les for Jack…and he's still got Oliver…but Katherine, you gotta leave. Snyder's gonna be mad when he finds out you was here."

Katherine nodded resolutely. "Fine. Read that, then burn it. Whatever you do, don't let Snyder see. It could be the end of—well, a lot of things." She shuddered. "But how are we going to get Jack out?"

Crutchie hesitated. An idea had been floating around his head concerning Snyder's captives. He had pushed it away so often, he was almost reluctant to let it return. But he knew that since it was probably the only time he would have contact with anyone outside the Refuge for a long time, it was now or never. He had to at least try to put his plan into action.

"The boys," he said softly. "I hate to ask our old newsies to put themselves in danger again, but I know they'd be real mad at us if we knew that Jack was locked up and didn't tell them."

"You want them to try and break Jack out of…wherever he is," Katherine said, catching on. She frowned slightly. "You're right, I don't like having to ask them, but…hmm…" She seemed to come to a decision. "I'll tell you what. Read the letter I wrote to the governor. I'll send it tomorrow. If he won't or can't help us, I'll try to recruit the boys. It's the last thing I want to do…but I know they'd do anything for Jack," she said, with a twinkle of pride in her eye.

"You gotta go, Katherine," Crutchie urged, watching the street for any sign of Snyder.

"All right. Don't forget to burn that letter."

"I'll see you…soon, I hope," Crutchie called dismally as Katherine ran out the door, auburn hair flying out behind her.

_Dear Mr. Governor Roosevelt,_

_I write you with a plea for justice and protection for a certain group of children and young adults that administer to them. As of late, the city's Refuge had become a safe haven for the poor and troubled children of New York City. Run exclusively by adults willing to care for the children, things were going well. The place had taken a far leap away from the cruel methods of one Mr. Snyder, who was condemned to prison several years ago. This same Mr. Snyder has recently spoken to several authority figures and paid a fair sum of money that ultimately resulted in his release from prison. This man is now at large. In the hours following his release, he returned to the Refuge and after terrorizing the young children, beating several young adult men to a state of little conscience, and taking away two young boys, one of whom was supposedly his son (not to mention ordering the men working with him to beat a young woman senseless then proceeding to drag her off as well), Mr. Snyder has once again taken on full responsibility of the Refuge, turning it once again into a place of torture, terror, and nightmares._

_As stated in the opening of my letter, I am writing to beg your assistance in this dire matter. Boys and girls are being terrorized and beaten as I write. In the past you played a defining role in stopping the cruel methods of the old Refuge, and I can only hope you will show the same kindness to our situation now. If it is in your power (and I think I rightly assume it is), Mr. Governor, please remove this terrible man, Mr. Snyder, from the Refuge! My second request, which is smaller though no less important: please assist us in finding the two boys the man kidnapped. I do not know the exact whereabouts of his lair, but I'm sure with a bit of looking your policemen could find them. The first boy is about nine years old. He is the one who was heard calling Snyder his father as he was dragged away. This boy, whose name is Oliver (if our suspicions are correct, his surname would therefore be Snyder), was staying in the Refuge on charges of stealing and fighting in the streets. He has a hot temper and is likely to lash out, although as Snyder was pulling him away he turned surprisingly meek and frightened, according to eyewitnesses. The second boy's name is Les Jacobs. He is fourteen years old. The reason Snyder took him is unknown, but as he has a family of five his absence is very much missed, and the policemen seem to know nothing about the present situation._

_In conclusion, Mr. Governor, please do your best to help our cause, which as you can see is particularly grim. If you need more information, I can be reached at the mailing address below._

_-Katherine Kelly_

Crutchie burned it. Luckily too, because Snyder returned that evening. It was back to an endless time of waiting for Crutchie, and he could only hope that Governor Roosevelt could help them.

Jack's arms were wrapped around Oliver, and he had fallen asleep that way.

The quiet footsteps of several young men didn't wake him. Nor did the sound of a whispered argument outside the door. Even when the sounds of a full-on fight drifted into the room, Jack didn't stir.

It was only when the door slammed open and Davey stood silhouetted in the shadows, victorious, that Jack woke up. He gripped Oliver tightly as other old newsies filed in around Davey, breathing heavily. They were all grinning.

Race was the first to speak.

"Come on, Jackie. We're getting you outta here."

I couldn't believe my ears. "They knocked out the Delancey brothers?" I whispered to Jack as we sprinted along in the shadows of buildings. Jack's friends flanked us like an army. My heart was pounding. Jack nodded, grinning.

"Keep running, Oliver. We'se gonna get you to safety."

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><p><strong>I just had to fit a little bit of Oliver's POV there at the end, because I'm not sure how the next few chapters are going to play out! In any case, this story is drawing to a close, I'm sorry to say! We'll just have to see how everything works out, and of course if you'd like to see anything specific happen before this ends, please review or PM me! I'm always open to prompts, even if it has nothing to do with this story. Seriously. Give me prompts. <strong>

**See you soon!**

**-Sis21K**


	13. Chapter 13

**Okay. I was just reading through the previous chapter, and I think it is the most rushed thing I've ever written. Seriously. I'm not going to change it because I'm lazy and you probably don't want to reread the same thing, but yeesh! Just to be clear, the boys broke Jack and Oliver out. The Delancies are unconscious. Snyder is unaware. Crutchie is still stuck in the Refuge with the kids.**

**Also, don't worry, I haven't forgotten about Violet! I'm kind of glad a few of you missed her, I think that means she's a good enough OC? She is still in jail, and Crutchie is still worried about her.**

**Anyways, on with the story!**

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><p>"Davey," Jack murmured, moving away from Oliver as they ran, "Where are we goin'?"<p>

Davey's answer was quick and well-rehearsed. "To your place. We'se gonna hide you and that little kid there until—"

"What?" Jack exclaimed. "No! I ain't putting Ace and Bella in danger."

"She thought you'd say that," Davey said, rolling his eyes. "In that case, we were to take you to my family's house."

"No way!" Jack spluttered. "No—just, no! I ain't putting you in danger either!"

"I _knew_ you'd say that," Davey said in exasperation. "Your last option is going to the Refuge."

"Uh-uh. No. We can't take Oliver back there, Snyder's his dad, remember? It'll be even worse for him!"

"Better make a decision then," Davey said. "Because we ain't gonna leave you on the streets."

"How about Medda's theatre?" Jack asked desperately.

"Closed for the week. She's out of town."

Jack huffed. "Come on. You gotta have a better plan than—"

"And if you refuse," Race added, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, "We got orders from your wife to take you by force."

Jack stared around at the others, still running hard, hoping one of them would give him a better option. They were all smirking at him now. He felt himself starting to get angry. "Guys, you'se all being stupid! Don't you understand? Wherever I go, I'm putting people in danger! Just put me and Oliver on a train or somethin', just get me outta here!"

"Would you leave your wife and daughter?" Davey asked quietly.

Jack let out a snort of frustration. "Of course not, but—"

"Look, Jackie, none of us likes the whole Snyder situation either," Race said, "But you don't see any of us running away from the problem, do you?"

"So what do you want me to do?" Jack yelled. "Walk into the Refuge and tell Snyder to beat it?"

"No, Jack," Davey said softly. "We just want you to keep yourself safe. Let us do the work for a while."

Jack started to protest, but the words died in his throat. Maybe Davey actually had a plan. Maybe Katherine's letter had reached the governor and he was straightening everything out for them. Maybe if he just backed off for a while, he wouldn't need other people saving him again.

"Fine," he huffed. "We'll go to my place."

"Good," Davey said approvingly. "Next block."

"Hey Oliver, you'se gonna be staying with me for a—Oliver?" Jack's voice was suddenly panicked. "Where'd he go?"

He stopped running and searched the street with a sweeping glance. The little boy was nowhere to be seen.

"He musta run off," Jack groaned. "That kid…" he started yelling. "Oliver! Oliver, come on! We'se trying to help you! Oliver!"

"No time, Jack," Davey said in a strained voice, pulling on his arm. "We need to get you to your apartment!"

"I ain't goin' without Oliver."

"Oh, yes you are!" Race snarled, grabbing his other arm and giving it a sharp tug. "We didn't go through all this just so you could get caught again."

"But that kid's gonna get himself hurt! Snyder's gonna—"

"We'll find him," Specs said in a hollow voice. "But Jack, come on! There's someone—"

Suddenly Jack found himself slammed into a wall. The other newsies flattened themselves beside him, and Race pressed a hand to Jack's mouth. Jack frowned and looked out of the shadows into the street, where a carriage was slowly rolling by. He shook his head, confused and frustrated with Race, but then he saw the outline of his worst enemy.

Snyder's carriage drove quietly by, and Jack felt a sinking feeling. He was headed towards the Refuge.

"At least he doesn't know you're gone yet," Davey said soothingly. He was sitting with Jack and Katherine in their kitchen, speaking in low voices as to not disturb the Kelly's young daughter who was sleeping in the bedroom. The rest of the newsies had gone out to search for Oliver.

"How do you figure that?" Jack asked.

"Well, you'd think he'd be in a rage if he found out his prisoners had escaped from right under his nose."

Jack sighed. "Yeah, you're right. But what happens when he finds out?"

"Nothing," Katherine said firmly. "Roosevelt will have figured a way out of it by then."

"You sent the letter?" Jack asked excitedly.

"Yes, and he replied!"

"Well, go on, what did he say?"

"I…well, it's just…" Katherine looked sheepish. "I haven't really had a chance to open it yet." She produced an official-looking envelope and held it up.

Jack sprang forward and began tearing it open. "Ah…" he said. "Finally, some progress."

"Let me read it," Katherine said, reaching.

"I think not!"

"I wrote the letter!"

"You had your chance to read it!"

"You are the most impossible—"

"Goodness…I'll read it," Davey said firmly, taking hold of the letter. "Honestly, you two are like children sometimes…" He cleared his throat and began to read aloud. _"' Dear Miss Katherine (Pulitzer) Kelly, In response to your letter, I have ordered an investigation of your reported kidnappings. If the people you described are found, there will be a full inquiry of Mr. Snyder. In the meantime, however, Mr. Snyder is free to go where he wishes, even in the Refuge. The reason no action has been taken in this matter is that the Refuge currently does not have an official leader. If one such person can be produced, they may request that Mr. Snyder stay off the premises. However, I have no power to remove him unless proper authority is found'—_Oh, that's ridiculous! The Refuge doesn't have a leader, can't he just step in?" Davey exclaimed.

"Settle down, Davey, it sounds like he's on our side," Katherine said quietly.

"What else does it say?" Jack asked.

But Davey wasn't looking at the letter. His eyes were closed and he looked devastated. "No! I should have thought of this!"

"What?" Jack said, glancing towards the door.

"Now that you aren't being held by Snyder anymore, the police can't get any evidence that he was holding you in the first place!" Davey moaned. "Oh, if we'd just waited one more night, we could have seen the letter, showed the police where he was keeping you, it all would have worked out! We should have left you there for them to find!"

Jack was suddenly on his feet. Davey froze, looking horrified. "Jack. Jack, that's not what I—"

"You think," Jack whispered dangerously, "that that little boy—Oliver—would've survived one more night in that place? You think the Delancey's wouldn't have beat me to death that night? You think Snyder didn't have it in his power to finish us off? You think—" Jack scowled. "Never mind. Obviously you _didn't_ think."

"You're right Jack, I didn't think before I said that," Davey said desperately, standing as well and reaching out a tentative hand to the fuming Jack. "I'm glad we got you out of there, I really am. But don't you see…" He faltered for a moment at Katherine's warning look but plowed bravely on. "If the police would have gotten you instead of us, Snyder would have gotten arrested for sure!"

"I see. It's all about the greater good with you, isn't it?" Jack said in a low voice. "Doesn't matter how much everyone else is hurtin', long as you'se safe. You and your stupid family. Well, guess what? I got a family too. And I though you was a part of it." His voice was slowly getting louder. Davey attempted to cut him off, but Jack was too far in. Davey fell back on the couch. "Remember the strike? Remember when Crutchie got tossed in the old Refuge? You know what you said to me, after that? After that happened?" Jack laughed, but there was no humor in it at all. His laugh was short and harsh. "You said, 'no one died'. You told me to lighten up. You know what, Davey? You ain't never been hurt, have you? You ain't never known pain. You know what I think? I think sometimes death would be worse than all the suffering in this world! You think everyone's happy as long as no one's dead. But it ain't fun bein' trapped by your worst enemy, Davey. It ain't fun bein' in a dark cellar with a little boy who's terrified of you, wondering when someone's gonna come in and make you hurt worse than you ever hurt before!"

"You say I don't know pain?" Davey yelled, getting back on his feet and leaning into Jack's face. "I know pain. I know the pain of watching my father struggle with a hurt leg and no job. I know the pain of seeing my little brother being beat to a pulp on the street. I watched the newsies give up all they had for you! For me!"

"And yet somehow you never actually felt that pain yourself, did you, Davey?" Jack spat.

"Jack!" Katherine finally stood up and tried to force herself between the two men who were inches from each other's faces. "Stop it! Davey just saved your life!"

"He's regretting it now, though, isn't he?" Jack said, his eyes not leaving Davey's face.

"You know what, Jack? Maybe I am!" Davey shouted.

"Sit down, both of you!" yelled Katherine, pushing them apart. "You're both forgetting something!"

"And what would that be?" Jack asked angrily, turning his wrath on her.

"Violet!" Katherine said breathlessly. "The girl Crutchie's got a thing for. Snyder took her to jail. The cops could investigate…you know…"

There was a tense silence. Davey and Jack glanced at each other. Katherine gazed back and forth between the two, looking extremely apprehensive. After a long minute, Davey sat back down with a sigh.

"Katherine, I think you just saved us," he said, rubbing his eyes.

Jack took a moment longer to calm down. He glanced towards the bedroom, muttering, "Bella sleeps through anything," then stared out the window, apparently deep in thought. Finally he sat back down beside Davey. "I guess you're right, Ace."

"Of course I am," Katherine said smugly, looking relieved that they weren't going to start shouting at each other again. "And tomorrow I'm going right down to the police station to make them get going on that investigation."

"Okay," said Jack, "And what am I gonna do? You think they've found Oliver yet?"

As if in answer to his question, the door banged open and several haggard-looking newsies piled in. "He's gone all right," Race groaned. "We searched every alley. We were headed to the Refuge to check there, but they've got—"

"—cops watching it," Katherine finished heavily. "I know."

"We did our best," Romeo said in a small voice. "Really."

"I'm sure you did," Davey said reassuringly, going over to pat their backs. Jack stood as well, but he went to the window. The conversation of the others was background noise to him. His mind was focused on one thing as he stared out into the dark streets.

"Jack?" Katherine said tentatively. She was the only one who had noticed his strange behavior.

"I've got to go find him," he whispered. "He can't be out there alone. Not when Snyder's roaming the streets. Not when Snyder thinks he's in that old cellar."

"Jack, no!" Katherine squeaked, horrified. "I thought we decided this, I thought you were going to keep low for a while!"

There was a pause. Jack glanced back out the window, then forced his face into a smile that was more like a grimace. "Drinks, anyone?" he asked. "We'll toast against Snyder, eh?"

Katherine gave him a suspicious look, but let the matter drop.

Soon the newsies were clustered in the living room. The mood was subdued, but once the subject of Snyder had been exhausted everyone started telling stories from back at the Lodging House. Race had just finished a particularly good one, about a time when they pranked Davey—they'd told him, while he was in the bathroom, that the place had started on fire, and in his haste he'd run outside with his pants around his ankles—when Jack rose. Under the cover of their roaring laughter, he whispered to Katherine, "I'm gonna check on Bella," and slipped into the bedroom.

As soon as he'd shut the door and blocked out the sounds from the living room, he sprang into action. He slid open his desk drawer and quickly scribbled a note to Katherine, throwing in a lot of _I'm sorry_'s in the hopes she wouldn't be too angry. "Aw, who am I kidding? She's gonna throw a fit no matter what," he muttered, sticking the note under the door. He glanced over at his young daughter, Bella, and grinned, wondering how she could sleep through the shouting match between him and Davey and the laughter of the newsies. Finally he swallowed, opened the window, and climbed down the fire escape into the dark streets of New York.

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><p><strong>Reviews are awesome!<strong>

**-Sis21K**


	14. Chapter 14

**Sorry if this is kind of rushed, but I just had to get something up! Standard disclaimers apply.**

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><p>As soon as Jack looked away, I slipped into an alley. The others weren't paying attention to me, but I stayed hidden until I knew they were far away. As I ran off in the opposite direction, I thought I heard my name. "Oliver!" But by that time, I was too far away to care.<p>

I was going to save Violet. I decided that immediately. It wasn't really for her sake so much as for Crutchie. I knew that he must miss her. I wanted him to be happy. Therefore, I ran towards the jail where I knew she was being kept, orders of my father.

New York is a big city.

I ran out of breath pretty quickly. Luckily the jail wasn't too far from where I'd given Jack the slip. After resting a moment, I hurried on.

I'd never actually seen the jail before. It was a real jail, not like the Refuge. The Refuge is a kids' jail. I expected it to have barred windows and stuff, and it did, but it wasn't as obvious as you'd think. There were windows. And if you looked a little closer, you could see the bars. And then you realized that behind those bars were thieves and drunks and murderers…and Violet…

And then I realized that my father had been in that jail.

But he wasn't. It was Violet I needed to save.

I realized there were guards around the jail, and suddenly I was scared. How was I going to break Violet out?

So…well…I decided not to.

I spun around and headed back to the only place that I knew someone I trusted was. The Refuge.

The Refuge was being guarded too. The guards weren't standing outside the gates, though, like at the adult jail. They were sitting in carriages, casually keeping an eye on the place. I only managed to get in because of a lucky turn of events involving a big, hungry dog and a drunk, which captured their attention long enough for me to climb the gate and sneak through the door.

I saw Crutchie right away. He was alone, sitting on the stairs, with his head in his hands. I thought he was asleep at first, but then his head snapped up. He locked eyes with me, and his eyes widened. "Oliver?" he whispered hoarsely, jumping to his feet and limping quickly over to me. "What are you doing here?"

"I broke out!" I told him. "My dad was keeping me in an old cellar and I broke out, right under the Delancey brothers' noses!"

Crutchie looked surprised. "Really? How about Jack? Did he escape too?"

"Yup!" I said proudly. "I snuck us right out of there before they woke up!"

"Woke up? Were they asleep?"

"No, they were just knocked out." Crutchie raised an eyebrow. I sighed. "Well…I guess some of Jack's friends kind of helped…a little…they took care of the Delanceys and then we made a run for it." My story sounded less heroic with the other guys playing a part.

Crutchie embraced me in an enormous hug, but pulled away quickly, looking worried. "Oliver, Snyder—your dad, I mean—said he's coming back tomorrow night. But if he finds out you and Jack escaped…the first place he'll check is here."

"So I gotta leave?" I said, crestfallen. I was hoping Crutchie would be able to hide me.

"No," he said firmly, and I sighed in relief. "But we'se gonna have to hide you."

I was suddenly feeling a hot wave of panic. "Where? He's gonna find me—he's gonna kill me—"

"Oliver, it's okay, we'll find a way…"

"No!" I exclaimed. The stress of being stuck in my father's prison for such a long time was suddenly overwhelming me. "It doesn't matter! He's gonna kill me no matter what! Oh, no…oh, no…" I started hopping up and down on my toes, seeing absolutely no way out of the frightening situation. Dad was coming. I knew it.

As if to confirm my thoughts, someone pounded hard on the door. With a squeak I hid behind Crutchie. The door slammed open, and a bunch of cops entered the room. Crutchie seemed frozen, unable to speak or move.

The biggest of the cops shut the door behind him and crossed his arms. "Where's your boss?" he rumbled.

"Ain't got one," murmured Crutchie.

"Better get one, kid, because if you ain't got a boss in the next six hours—and I don't mean one of you kids that think you're having a laugh trying to run a jail, I mean a real boss—then we're gonna get one for you, and a permanent one."

Crutchie seemed almost afraid to ask. "And who would that be, mister?"

"Mr. Snyder," the cop said with a cruel laugh. "Know him?"

Jack had been running for nearly an hour. He'd checked all the alleyways, searched the shadows of empty streets—to no avail. Oliver was gone…unless…

There was one big 'unless'. It seemed foolish to hope it, but it was Jack's last hope.

…unless Oliver had returned to the Refuge.

It would have been a dumb thing to do—the kid was bound to be caught all over again—but Jack knew he wouldn't rest until he'd checked. So, panting, he set off to the place of childhood torture.

He was passing his apartment when he heard a scream. "Jack!" It came from the entrance. He tried to keep running but suddenly he was tackled to the ground.

"What are you playing at, running off after all we went through to save you?" Race asked angrily, settling himself comfortably on top of Jack.

"Trying to save Oliver," Jack muttered through clenched teeth, trying to push Race off. He braced himself for a sarcastic retort, about how he didn't always have to be the hero, but none came. Instead, Race gave a short laugh.

"Well why didn't you invite us along?" and the rest of the newsies were upon him with a whoop.

"Let's go!"

"Jack, no! You can't get yourself in trouble again!" It was Katherine, yelling at him from the doorway.

He was helped to his feet by the eager newsies, and turned to face her.

"I've got to, Ace." He was nearly pleading with her. "Oliver needs help. I'm serious. I need to get to him before Snyder does."

"Then I'll come with you!" she said with a slightly hysterical squeak, stepping out of the shadows.

"No, Katherine." Suddenly Davey was taking charge. "Go to the prison. See what you can do about Violet. If they won't let her out, stay there until we can get Roosevelt or someone over."

"Who's gonna watch Bella?" Jack asked.

"I'll go ask one of the neighbors," Katherine said, looking pale but determined as she dashed off into the apartment.

"Jack? Where to?" Davey asked.

Jack set his jaw. "The Refuge."

Violet sat against the barred door, as she always did. She was barely aware of any passing of time. The faces of the Refuge's children flashed through her mind constantly, and another among them—Crutchie's face—stood out particularly clear. She just wanted to go back and help. She wanted to tell Crutchie how much he meant to her and how close they'd become in the last few months. She wanted to get herself out of this mess, but she didn't know how.

A harsh clanking startled her out of a doze. Her mind cleared. The door was shaking and she heard it being unlocked. It was too late for a meal…what did the wretched guards want?

A soft woman's voice surprised her. "Violet? Come on, we're getting you out of here."

The next thing she knew, the woman—who had introduced herself as Katherine—was supporting her as they walked slowly down the darkened streets. Tears of relief dripped off her chin as Katherine explained some things. Violet couldn't really concentrate. She only heard certain words. "…Refuge…Crutchie…governor…safe…"

And then they were back at the Refuge. Katherine had to let go of her for a moment to force the door open, and Violet nearly collapsed from weakness.

A few more blurred moments, and they were inside. "Join the party," said a burly policeman. "Unless either of you is the boss of this place?"

"They're both too young," said another cop, "And they're women."

Neither retorted. Violet looked around at the other figures in the dark as the first cop said, "You better hope your leader shows up within…what are we down to, two hours? Or you'll be sleepin' in prison cells tonight."

"Violet?"

"Crutchie."

It was him. Violet exhaled and another torrent of tears escaped her eyes. He was okay. Their hands found each other, and they wove together tightly. Together, in the darkness, they waited for a leader whose identity they knew not and wondered if such a person would ever show up.

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><p><strong>So I just wanted to let everyone know that this is drawing to a close. There will probably only be one or two more chapters. I'm sad to see it ending, but I'm excited to start a new multi-chapter! Do you have any ideas or suggestions? Please, <em>please<em>, let me know if you do. Even small ideas can spiral into huge plots in my mind. I would really appreciate some ideas about what kind of story to write next, because though I've got a few plot bunnies bouncing around in my head, nothing is solid, and I would like some outside input. ANYTHING helps. Oh, and don't forget to review! They really make my day!**

**Thank you, everyone, for all the support!**

**-Sis21K**


	15. Chapter 15

**You guys...this is the last chapter. What?! This is crazy. Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed, because you know how I love reviews. Thank you to everyone who has supported my writing! A special shoutout to K Kelly, theatre104, and KnightNight7203, who have reviewed pretty much every chapter. Thank you so much!**

**Enjoy this final chapter from Oliver's POV!**

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><p>The air wasn't moving. I was pretty sure that either no time was passing, or time was speeding by. I couldn't tell which. Nothing was happening, everything was happening. Time would go by in a moment, or never end. And still we waited.<p>

I kept my eyes on the door. I stared at the handle for so long that the corners of my vision started to darken. I thought I was going blind. I didn't care. The wait pushed me past all thoughts of caring anymore. I knew he was coming. I knew he could turn that handle at any minute. I was sure that it would be the night he finally beat me to the death. It didn't matter. I was frozen in time and space.

And yet…despite all that…it's stupid, I know. But there was a little light of hope inside me. I had a tiny hope that somehow, someone would come and claim responsibility for the Refuge and take all the weight of my father off my shoulders and he would go back to jail for good and I would be safe with Crutchie and Jack and Les. I guess Violet could stay too. Crutchie still really liked her. But as much as I wanted it to happen, there was a bigger part of me that knew that life held no happy endings. It wasn't going to happen. I was going to meet my end right here, in the entry of the place I had first found refuge. Even though that hope burned within me, I knew it was a foolish hope.

I was right.

The door handle turned.

And it wasn't whoever I'd hoped for. Of course it wasn't. My hopes never turn out right, that's something else I've learned about life.

It was my father, of course.

He stepped quietly into the room, and suddenly time and space seemed to crash down around me but I still couldn't move. I was still frozen.

He closed the door softly, then gazed slowly around the room in the dim light. His eyes paused on Crutchie. They halt for a heart-stopping moment on Violet. And then they came to rest on me, and a horrible fire lit in his face.

"What is going on here?" he asked in a dangerous voice, and then quietly, "How did they escape?"

"The six hours is nearly up, sir!" one of the guards said. "They still haven't come up with a leader."

My dad took his eyes off me for a single moment to check his pocket watch. A cold grin spread across his face, and he snapped it shut. "Yes…what a shame. No one, for once, to stop me from doing what should have been done long ago…"

And in a few long strides, he crossed the room and dragged me to my feet by the ear. Crutchie gasped; Violet let out a little screech, but the guards flew across the room and held them tightly so they couldn't reach out to me. "Punish my own son," he finished, twisting my ear so I cried out.

"Stop!"

The voice startled all of us. It was muffled and came from the front door. My dad stepped on my foot—accidentally or on purpose, I'll never be sure—and I gasped in pain.

Then the door flew open and a figure stood there. There were others behind him. It was so dark now that I couldn't see his face, and only when he stepped forward and the beam of a streetlight revealed his sharp features did I recognize my savior.

It was Jack.

"Stop hurting him!" he said, breathing heavily. He took a step closer. "You need a leader to face? Well, I'm here."

My dad stared at him, and then began to laugh. "You? The leader of the Refuge? You, a coward, who lets your friends take your blows for you?"

"Don't call me a coward!" Jack yelled. He looked quite impressive, silhouetted against the street lights."You wanted a leader, and I showed up. _I'm _the leader of the Refuge."

"No, you're not," my dad spat.

"What if we says he is?" came an unfamiliar voice from outside—probably one of Jack's friends. There were other shouts of agreement.

My father narrowed his eyes.

"You're not a leader, Jack Kelly. You're nothing but a _coward_."

"Call him a coward again and you'll pay!" came the voice again, accompanied by more shouts.

Jack shrugged casually, though I could see his hands were shaking. "I ain't a coward. There's only one coward in this room, and I think we all know who that is." He snapped his fingers and pointed. "That would be you, Mister Snyder."

My father grabbed me by the neck, and I tried to scream but I couldn't breathe. The other figures filed in behind him, and after only a moment's hesitation Jack ran to me, punched my father in the jaw, and started to pry his fingers off my neck.

It was in that moment that I realized how brave Jack Kelly really was.

My father was his enemy as much as he was mine. Jack had been held hostage by him just as I had. I had never had the courage to stand up to my father. There was only one coward in the room, and it was me. Jack, in that moment, had faced probably his biggest fear in attacking his tormentor.

Jack's fortitude is what gave me the strength to begin to struggle against my father's death grip.

I caught a glimpse of the guards, still holding Violet and Crutchie but looking unsure now that their boss was trying to strangle a little kid. The other guys Jack had brought with him seemed uncertain as well. They weren't sure if they would help or harm if they threw themselves into the fight.

I started seeing black spots swirling in front of my eyes. I drew in a constricted breath. My father's fingers still pressed into my throat.

Suddenly his knee buckled, and he plummeted towards the floor, dragging me with him. He regained his feet after a moment, and looked around to see who had kicked him.

I had seen it. It had been Crutchie, breaking free of his captor in one smooth whack from his crutch, and then bearing down behind my dad. Like Jack, he had hesitated before attacking. But then he swung his crutch around and it made contact with the back of my dad's knee, not doing any real harm, but showing everyone where he stood and what he was willing to do to help me.

"No!" Violet screamed as my dad wrestled Crutchie's crutch away from him. Ignoring Jack, he pushed Crutchie to the floor and raised the crutch with a savage glint in his eyes. Somehow, he was still holding my neck with one hand, and my heart was starting to pound out its last beats.

And then Jack came thundering over and tackled my father.

Now, my dad's a strong man. Jack didn't knock him to the floor, but he did throw him off balance a little. However, my dad didn't loosen his grip on either my neck or the crutch. Jack grabbed the crutch in both hands and started swinging it around, away from Crutchie, who inched away from the action, looking terrified. Jack was trying so hard to wrench it out of my father's grip that he didn't really pay attention to where he was swinging it.

All I remember is a vision of the wooden crutch flying towards my face and a single thought: _I never told Jack I trusted him._

Because I still did trust him. Even though he accidentally knocked me out with a crutch, even though he scared me when I first met him, even though he still scared me a little bit—I trusted Jack Kelly.

I guess sometimes you need people to trust. If you don't trust anyone, you don't have anyone to save you when your father starts strangling you. Sure, you have to actually think about those people too, when they're in trouble, but I think it's worth it. Because guess what trust is the first step towards?

Family.

The only family I'd ever had was my dad, and I never trusted him. Maybe now I can gather a family of people I trust around me.

But trusting is still dangerous. I just thought I'd warn you. You might trust the wrong people. The people you trust might let you down. That's just life. And life's not fair. But it's better to have some people you trust, I found out. It just makes life a little bit easier. Okay, a lot easier.

And I lied a little. I didn't have one thought when the crutch came flying at my face. I had two. The second one was this:

_I think I want to be a newsie now._

Because I think I could trust them too.

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><p><strong>Well, that's it! BUT...hold on...<strong>

**There _could_ be an epilogue. **

**I don't know. Do you want one? I'll write one if you want one. Hmm...that's the big question. (I'm basically saying go and review ;-) We'll have to wait and see!**

**Thanks again, everyone!**

**-Sis21K**


	16. Epilogue

**I guess everyone wants an epilogue, and I'm glad, because there are still some things that need to be tied up. So here it is...**

**Thank you to EVERYONE who has supported this story, I really appreciate every single favorite, follow, and review. Your support is what made this story get as far as it has, and I hope this epilogue is a satisfying gift for all the fansies who have stuck with me until the end!**

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><p>"You knocked him out, Jack? With the crutch?"<p>

"Yeah, yeah, it was an accident!"

"Why'd you have the crutch in the first place?"

"Trying to knock out Snyder, wasn't I? Trying to keep him from killing Crutchie!"

"And I left." It was a woman's voice, sounding devastated. "They pulled Violet in and I ran for it."

"Katherine, stop going on about that," Jack said. "You said you were going to come and get me. That's all you were thinking."

"But I left. They didn't even notice."

"Stop." A chair scraped against the floor. "You did your job. No one expected you to stay. We would have been glad if you had found us and told us what was happening. We was just a step ahead of you."

"But I—"

"Shh. I think he's waking up."

Oliver waited a moment before opening his eyes. He blinked at everyone gathered around his bed—the lower bunk of his bed in the Refuge. Crutchie and Violet were sitting together on a nearby bed. Davey and Les were standing at the foot of Oliver's bed. Jack had his arms wrapped around Katherine, who was sitting in a wooden chair.

"Hey, Oliver." Crutchie smiled warmly.

"Where is he?" Oliver suddenly whispered, glancing around the otherwise empty dormitory.

"Snyder? He's gone. Back in the slammer, maybe for good this time. The guards thought that it was him who knocked you out, so they called in some of their cronies and took him down. The governor filed a report; one thing led to another and now he's in jail where he belongs." Crutchie looked relieved to be able to share this news.

"For sure?" Oliver still looked a little worried.

This time, Jack responded, squeezing Katherine's shoulder. "For sure. And hey, sorry about hitting you with the crutch, kid. Guess I went a little overboard, you know, trying to save your life and all."

Oliver hesitated, looking stormy, but then grinned. "That's okay." He tried to sit up and grimaced, a hand flying to clutch his head. "Still kinda hurts, though," he muttered.

"Davey brought you some medicine for that," Crutchie said as Davey nodded and stepped forward with a little bottle and a spoon. "We had to wait until you woke up to give it to you though, otherwise you might never wake up."

Oliver looked warily at the bottle in Davey's hand. "Are you sure it's…"

Crutchie chuckled. "It's safe. If it makes you feel any better, I took some earlier, and I'm fine, ain't I?"

Oliver seemed calmer after that, and consented to take a spoonful of Davey's medicine. He nearly spit it out but managed to swallow, spluttering, "Disgusting."

"That medicine should start to help you right away," Davey said with a smile. "And it's a good thing, because Les has a surprise for you."

Oliver raised his eyebrows as Les walked up to him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wadded up grey cap. The older boy handed it to Oliver, who smoothed it out and froze. It was a newsboy cap.

"You still want to come over to the Lodging House? We'd really like it if you did." Les seemed sincere this time.

To everyone's great surprise, Oliver's eyes filled with tears. Les stepped back, looking nervous. The young boy tried to control his emotions, but his cheeks were wet when he finally choked out, "Yeah. I'd like that."

Les grinned and pounded him on the back. "Good, 'cause it's almost time to get selling for the day."

Oliver slowly settled the cap on his head, being careful of the huge bruise caused by Jack whacking him with the crutch. He swung his feet around and stood. Les grinned and put an arm around him. "Ready?"

Oliver looked around. Crutchie nodded encouragingly. Violet looked as if she wasn't sure Oliver should be going out so soon after waking up, but kept her lips pursed. Davey was smiling. Jack was biting his lip. Oliver met Katherine's eyes, and they both glared at each other. Jack laughed, seeing this. Some things would never change.

Finally Oliver looked up at Les, and managed a small smile. "Ready."

The two boys walked towards the door. Les still had an arm draped over Oliver's shoulders, and was beginning to tell him the rules and tactics of being a newsie. They had just reached the door when Oliver froze. Les glanced back at the others with a smirk, clearly knowing what was about to happen, and sure enough, Oliver dashed back over and threw himself into Crutchie's arms. The tears that had begun moments earlier began cascading down the boy's cheeks again. He buried his face in Crutchie's shirt.

"Does this mean I'm not in kid jail anymore?" he whispered.

Crutchie smiled. "Oliver, you never was. You was only at the Refuge. And besides, you'se free now."

Oliver sniffed. "Does this mean I'm never gonna see you again?"

Crutchie felt his own tears begin to prick at his eyes. "Course not. Come see me whenever you want, Oliver. I'm gonna miss you if you don't."

"Me too. I'm gonna miss you too."

Jack had snuck up behind them and wrapped his arms around both of them. "You better come see me and Katherine too, Oliver."

"Maybe," Oliver whispered. "Maybe you. Maybe not Katherine."

Jack laughed. "And you better wipe those tears, otherwise them newsies is gonna give you a name like Waterfall."

Oliver glared at him and swiped at his eyes. "I ain't a crybaby."

"Course you ain't. You'se the bravest kid I know."

Oliver looked stunned at the compliment. "Thanks," he muttered, gave Crutchie another fleeting hug, then ran back over to Les. Together, they left the room.

The remaining adults were silent for a moment. Violet kissed Crutchie gently on the cheek, their hands clasped together. Jack rubbed Crutchie's shoulder.

"He'll come around."

Crutchie nodded, still looking at the door through which young Oliver had disappeared. He set his jaw resolutely. "He already did. They always do."

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><p><strong>The End! <strong>**:')**

**-Sis21K**


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